


Higher than Hope

by epeeblade



Series: Sex Corps [9]
Category: CWRPS
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Space Opera
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-25
Updated: 2010-05-25
Packaged: 2017-10-09 17:21:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/89815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epeeblade/pseuds/epeeblade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After leaving Jeff behind on Harmony, Jensen just has one last mission to finish up his obligations to the Corps. However, nothing goes as planned, and he finds himself at the mercy of his own wits. Can he find his way back to Jeff and, by the time it's all over, will he even want to?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [За пределами надежды by epeeblade](https://archiveofourown.org/works/649198) by [Chertopoloh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chertopoloh/pseuds/Chertopoloh)



> Thanks to  [](http://lapillus.livejournal.com/profile)[**lapillus**](http://lapillus.livejournal.com/) for the beta and [](http://whiteted.livejournal.com/profile)[**whiteted**](http://whiteted.livejournal.com/) for the last minute review.  
> Title comes from a Nightwish song, as always.  
> This might be hard for some to read. Here is the [summary of these events](http://epeeblade.dreamwidth.org/31853.html) for people who want to read the bigbang fic, but who can't read this one due to triggering content.

Part 1

"Just relax," Kane had said.

Jensen couldn't just relax. He didn't know why this mission had gotten under his skin more so than usual. None of his missions were what you could call safe, but this one, this one was especially dangerous. For all his brave words, Jensen knew there was a good chance he wasn't coming home from this one.

And neither had twenty-seven other scuts, which was why this was so fucking important. He had to succeed.

This was their third circuit around the underground clubs on Tanvir. Slavery was legal in the Confed, but the clubs catered to a different kind of clientele, the kind that didn't want their slaves for just labor. A blackmarket was bound to spring up in any society where people were treated like animals.

All the data had led here. No matter where the scuts had been assigned, somehow they'd all managed to get lost on this planet. Not all of them had been undercover as slaves, but that didn't matter on the black circuit. The collars didn't connect to the main grid. As far as the Confed was concerned, you didn't exist without a chip or a hooked up collar.

"Stop poking at it," Kane snapped.

Jensen pulled his hand away from the collar. It felt wrong against his skin. The smooth leather was hardly different from any other collar he'd worn. It was almost impossible to feel the tiny chip embedded in it.

He knelt at their feet, nearly underneath the table in a corner of the latest shack. The clubs weren't lit up in lights with bouncers at the door turning tourists away. No, these places were hidden behind barred doors, where you had to know the password before they'd even look at you.

It smelled like blood in here. Jensen's nose twitched and he held his breath, trying to ground himself. He hated that coppery scent, how it made his heart race and belly twist. Most of the other places had smelled sour, like sex and urine barely covered by whatever liquor was on tap. This place was different.

A man was bound to a rack in another corner, being worked on with a whip. Jensen tried to tune out his pleas for mercy. Especially when his owner merely turned and offered someone else a turn. Chits changed hands along with the single-tail. Another group had strapped a woman down to one of the tables, her arms bound tightly behind her back with her legs kicked wide. They started to take turns.

"Quit it." Steve leaned forward in his seat. "Neither of you look like you're advertising anything." He cupped the small glass in his hands, rolling it between them though he didn't taste the dark beverage inside.

Kane shifted, pulling a deck of old fashioned cards out of his pocket. He started to shuffle absently, his fingers moving deftly.  "You're the owner, sweetheart. I'm just the muscle."

Jensen swallowed. Not like his opinion mattered in this place. He'd worked with Kane and Carlson before, but usually they only provided transport. They were technically independent contractors, but this time the Corps needed the help of outsiders, men who weren't scuts, but loyal to the UP. Although after all these years Jensen still hadn't quite figured Kane out.

"You selling 'im?"

Steve looked up at the stranger who'd come up to their table - a stout man with a ruddy face and dressed like a port worker. "You think you can afford him?" Jensen had to hand it to him, Steve had the part of bored wealthy Confed brat down.

"Wanted a test ride first." The guy's voice was like nuts grinding against each other.

Steve grabbed his collar, throwing Jensen forward so he had to catch himself on his forearms. "Mouth only. Anything else is for the serious customers."

Jensen crawled forward, keeping his head down. He tried not to think about the substances on the gritty, dark floor.

"Come on, pretty boy." The john grabbed Jensen by his hair, pulling him up enough to grind his face against the bulge in his pants.

Jensen knew his role. Just open his mouth, let the bastard ram his sweaty cock between Jensen's lips. It tasted sour on his tongue, the earthy smell sent tears streaming down his cheeks. He was sure to look up from beneath his lashes, letting the man see his watery eyes.

Out of the corner of his eye Jensen glimpsed Steve's stricken expression. Carlson was too soft for this job. He couldn't deal. If he kept telegraphing everything he was feeling like that Jensen would tell Kane to take his partner out of there. They didn't need to give the game away so soon.

The guy pulled on Jensen's hair, getting his full attention back abruptly before thrusting deeply with his hips. His cock hit the back of Jensen's throat and he did gag in surprise. Jensen fought for his center, to sink into submitting. Never before had he had this difficult of a time during a mission in falling into his role.

It had never mattered before, letting someone else use his body like this. But now, now he had Jeff waiting for him. At the thought of Jeff seeing him like this, whored out for the greater good,  Jensen burned in shame.

That was when the prick decided to come, unloading his sour spunk in Jensen's mouth. He coughed and pulled off, only to get a hard slap across his face. "Swallow, pretty boy." Finger covered his lips until he did so, wincing as it threatened to come back up again.

"Had enough?" Steve's voice broke in. "I'm not giving him away for free, you know."

With a snort the man pulled out a handful of chits out of his pocket and dropped them on the table. "Should cover it. You're gonna make a killing, man. Those lips." He shook his head then disappeared back into the crowd that was gathering around another slave who had been strapped down.

Jensen heard someone brag about having a Yohimbe worm and shuddered before he crawled back into his place at Steve's feet. Fuck, he didn't want to be on the other end of that thing. He hoped they'd be long gone before the screaming started.

"You okay?" Steve whispered.

He barely refrained from rolling his eyes. Steve knew better. Don't break cover once inside. Fortunately he didn't have to say anything. Kane kicked out, jostling Steve's leg with his own. "Grab the money before it disappears."

Steve pocketed the chits, not bothering to count. "So fucking ridiculous…" he muttered.

The door opened and all eyes shifted to it, the room suddenly silent. Jensen supposed the Confed police could always shut down these clubs, but he hadn't heard of that happening yet. The woman who walked in was no Confed cop, though the legit slave trailing her caused plenty of whispers.

She wore a skintight silver jumpsuit, with black boots that stopped around mid-thigh. Dark blond hair was pulled back, revealing a face with large blue eyes and dangerous looking lips. With a smirk she told her slave: "Wait by the door, Trevor."

"Yes, mistress." The slave could be a bodyguard, with his tall stocky frame. Jensen gave him a quick assessment, trying to decide if he was a sex slave under the table or not. With her command, however, she took him off the table for everyone in the club.

She had to be wealthy, probably a member of the Confed's upper crust, to be able to afford a personal slave like that, a legal one anyhow. Jensen wasn't surprised to see her here at all, in fact he put her on his list of possibilities. Whoever had been buying up scuts had to have some standing and most importantly - money.

He nudged Steve with his shoulder and tilted his head. They all watched her go to the bar and order a drink, and they weren't the only ones. She made people nervous, Jensen figured, despite her attractiveness she had status where they didn't. She brought her own slave here, taunting those black listed. She was trouble.

Probably his kind of trouble.

It took her a good hour before she started perusing the goods. Jensen watched as she shook her head in distaste at the guy strung up on the rack. It was long past time for him to be taken down, if his owner wanted to make any money off him at all. She turned up her nose at the group still playing with the Yohimbe worm, laughing at their slave's screams.

He tried to figure her out. She wasn't here to watch pain being doled out, but she didn't seem interested in the too intense pleasure the worm caused. Was she one for subtly herself or was she on a mission to acquire for someone else?

Eventually she made her way over to their table. "I adore the nipple piercings," she cooed, as if Jensen were in a store window display, a pair of shoes she simple must have.

Steve, for once not forgetting his damn role, reached down and tweaked one causing Jensen to arch up in surprise.  "I thought they were a nice touch."

"Is he for sale or for rent?" She gestured behind her. "I heard you were giving out samples."

"He's for sale if you can afford him," Kane said.

She raised an eyebrow, taking Kane's words as a challenge. "Trevor," she called to her slave. The young man came to her side instantly. "Show them how much I can afford."

The slave had a traveling bag over one shoulder, not unusual, most slaves carried their master's belongings. Trevor dropped it on the table and undid the clasp, opening it to reveal rows and rows of the chits the Confed used for currency.

"I came here to deal, gentlemen. That is, if I found something worth my while." She narrowed her eyes at Jensen, then plucked out a handful of blue colored chits. "That should cover a test run, yes?"

Kane cleared his throat. From his discomfort Jensen could tell she had offered plenty of money just to have her way with him. "Looks about right, yeah."

"I trust you have no objection to restraints?" The spark in her bright blue eyes had Jensen's heart pumping faster. She didn't wait for an answer.

Jensen was hauled up and bent over the free table next to where Steve and Kane were sitting. They would have front row seats to the show. He felt a moment's remorse for Steve. Jensen figured it was going to be harder for Steve to watch, since Steve had grown up the child of a Meridian sex worker.

The woman clamped cuffs on Jensen's wrists, binding them together at the small of his back. She ran her hand up his flank, following the swirling patterns of his tattoo. Her mouth breathed hot and heavy at his ear. "Have you been broken, boy?"

He shuddered. "Please, don't…" he didn't know how to finish. Don't hurt me? Don't stop? A blacklisted slave needed to somehow survive, despite being unwilling.

She fisted her fingers in his hair and pulled his head up. "Shut up. You don't speak. You're nothing."

Something about her words, the way she manhandled him, it sparked his inner submissive. It wasn't the clumsy fiddling of the people who'd had him so far during this mission. She clearly knew what she was doing, understood how to play the game in a way no one else here did. His cock twitched, finally showing some interest in the proceedings.

Then she pushed him onto his back, arms caught behind him so his hips were jutting upward obscenely. She took the rings encased in his nipples and twisted them sharply. Jensen hissed in reaction. His dick thickened along his thigh.

"You're a little slut, aren't you?" her words were whispered, so low he could barely hear her. She wasn't doing this to show off, not for the others in the room, or even for Kane and Steve. This was just for Jensen. "You want it so bad you'll just take it from anyone."

Jensen swallowed, unable to answer, even if she would have allowed it. He'd never denied his love for sex, his ownership of his own sensuality, how he'd reveled in his submissive tendencies. Plenty of people had called him a slut before. But why did she make him feel so ashamed?

"Trevor." She stepped away and summoned her slave. "Be a dear and gag him with your cock."

Jensen hardened even further. He couldn't help it, especially when she tilted his head back so it hung off the edge of the table and held his mouth open for Trevor to push his cock past lips already swollen and sore.

Trevor tasted sweet and clean, probably needed to keep himself so for his mistress. Jensen wasn't in any position to work any of his tricks. He could only lie there and try to keep breathing as the cock slipped down his throat.

Before he could adjust properly to that, Jensen felt her climb onto the table and straddle him. He had time to feel the protection sheath slipped over his cock before she slid down onto him. Jensen bucked in reaction and nearly choked himself. He hadn't heard her undress and could only wonder how she'd bared herself so quickly.

Warmth surrounded him so fully. Jensen hadn't had a woman in years. But this wasn't having a woman, or even being with one. This was being put in his place and being taken. He curled his toes, the only part of Jensen with the least bit of freedom.

"You're so fucking hard," she gasped above him, her hands braced on his chest, fingernails digging into sensitive skin. "Slut. Whore. Oh!"

"Mistress," Trevor gasped. "May I?"

"Come, my boy," she said, then started rolling her hips even faster. She clamped down around Jensen, pulsing through her first climax.

Trevor let out a little cry before coming. He pulled away towards the end, letting drops of come trickle down Jensen's nose and cheeks. Jensen gasped, desperate for air. She continued to ride him, bucking against him now and pulling hard on his piercings before giving in once more. She never cried out, never moaned, never gave any verbal indication of her climax.

With a final thrust against him, she shivered and climbed off, leaving Jensen still hard under the sheath. He watched as she touched a button on her belt, which sealed the opening in her jumpsuit, covering her bared mound. Mechanical clothes? Had they thought of everything in the Confed?

She reached out and pulled the sheath off of him, letting it fall to the floor to mix with the other garbage. Jensen bit his lip to keep from crying out at the sensation, too hard and right at the edge of climax. But all thoughts of pleasure went out of his head when she rolled him off the table. His knees hit the floor hard without his arms to catch himself.

Trevor pulled a chair over from off to the side and added it to Kane and Steve's table. She slid into it gracefully. "Now, gentlemen, we can negotiate."

***

Jeff looked at the camera above the comm unit and forced a smile on his face. "So we're heading back to planet 511. That's the place where they only speak old French. The guys don't mind so much because they love working with Dr. Cortese."

He sat back and scratched at the back of his neck, realizing as he did that it was a gesture he had picked up from Jensen. Jeff sighed. "You're probably wondering why I'm not still on 328. Standard procedure. Leave a team and then move on to the next planet. We're going to check on the team on 511 first, but there are still 12 different colonies unaccounted for."

Jeff folded his hand in his lap. "Did I tell you Gyllenhaal got promoted? She's going to be working on the base on 328. She's a good kid. Deserves it.  Anyway, I'll probably head back there in a month to check up on the progress. We'll see how Major Tappen is doing. He sends his regards by the way."

This time the smile on his face was genuine. "All right, so that's a damn dirty lie. But I think you knew that." Jeff looked over at the chrono. "Gotta cut this one short, Jen. I'll just put it in the queue."

He wanted to tell Jensen he hoped the mission was going well. But Jeff didn't want to put voice to his fears, didn't want to make mention of the thing that kept Jensen from him. He felt that would be inviting bad luck. "I'll comm you tomorrow. Be good." He signed off like he always did before turning off the vid recording. Then Jeff sent it to Jensen's comm code though who knew when he'd receive it.

Jeff had promised. And he always kept his promises.

***

She'd gagged Jensen before letting her slave lead him out of the club and into a nondescript hover vehicle on the street. Trevor had clipped the cuff's on Jensen's wrists to the wall in the van and moved into the driver's seat. Driver, bodyguard, what didn't this guy do?

"I think I got a bargain," she said with a laugh, closing the back door behind her before taking the cushioned seat next to a computer terminal. "Drive, Trev."

Trevor didn't respond, just put the vehicle in gear. Jensen struggled to keep his footing as they swerved to the side. She kept watching him, a smirk on her full, pink lips. Kane and Carlson had put on a good show, played the hard bargain until she'd laid down nearly the entire contents of the case of chits. No one could resist that much cash.

"Ryan, we've picked up a tail," Trevor called into the back. He didn't sound very much like a traditional Confed slave, not with the way he addressed his mistress.

The tail, of course, had to be Kane and Carlson, doing their job and seeing where this duo took Jensen, hoping it would lead them all to the missing scuts even if Jensen should somehow fail.

Ryan picked up a small scanner from the shelf under the terminal and made her way to Jensen's side. "Let's see…" She ran the slim cylinder up and down Jensen's body.

He stiffened at her actions. How had they guessed?

The scanner beeped when she passed it over his black market collar. "Figures." She undid the clasp and pulled it off Jensen's neck. He swallowed rapidly. "They're tracking the slave chip. Amateurs."

"We'll lose them at the space port anyhow," Trevor agreed with her, not taking his eyes off the controls.

Space port. That meant they were taking him off-planet. This was where the missing scuts had all disappeared, where the trail had ended. Jensen worried at the lack of good intel. What the hell had stymied the UP's info network so badly?

Ryan was still running the scanner over his body, her tongue caught between her teeth. "Ah ha," she said. "It's always the fucking piercings."

Jensen met her eyes, his own widening in shock. He pressed himself back against the wall of the van, the metal cold against his bare back.

"Oh don't look so surprised, Scut."

His heart pounded in his chest and Jensen narrowed his eyes. So this was a concerted effort to take out scuts. The only question was how the fuck were they targeting them. He glared at Ryan, unable to ask his questions with the ball gag locked around his mouth.

Ryan reached back into the drawer beneath the terminal and pulled out a set of pliers. "They always look so surprised, Trev," she said, speaking as if Jensen weren't there and listening to every word. She gripped the first nipple ring with the piers. "I'll tell you a secret pretty boy. It's because you were hard."

Jensen blinked up at her, knowing the confusion was obvious in his eyes.

"Did you even look at the other black market slaves?" She shook her head, plucking out the first ring with a swift motion before attacking the second. "Without a worm or lots of good drugs, they're never aroused. But you scuts…" Ryan clucked her tongue, pulling out the second ring. She had them both in one palm and she played with the metal absently. "You're really something else."

It was a stupid mistake. But Jensen hadn't been the only one to make it. Getting pleasure from their work was the way most scuts survived the job.

"Come on, Ryan," Trevor said from the front seat, sounding less and less like a slave with every word. "Finish it. We're nearly there and we need to lose the tail before we get to our ship."

Ryan ran the scanner over the rings in her hand. "Let's see who you are, pretty boy." She plugged the scanner right into the computer terminal, before touching a button on the flat panel. To Jensen's shock, he saw his own serial number display on the screen, before the picture changed. "Got a file on this one," Ryan said with glee. "Ackles, Jensen. Lieutenant, 2nd grade. Serial number KAZ2Y5."

At least their information was tiny bit out of date. They hadn't had word of Jensen' recent promotion to Captain. He shook his head at the absurdity. Who the hell were these people?

"Shit, Trev," Ryan said. She turned and glared at Jensen. "We got the asshole responsible for the Harris Factory disaster."

Jensen didn't expect her slow smile. "Can you say promotion?" She laughed and dropped the rings and his collar into a small chute. When she shut it Jensen heard the grind and flash that accompanied a portable garbage incinerator. He was in more trouble than he had bargained for.

***

"What do you think," Adrianne said, sliding her fingers down the headboard of the bed. "About having the wedding at my parents?"

Jared yawned. He pulled her closer, not wanting to look at the time. It seemed like he'd just gone to sleep. "You want to talk about this now? When I have to be back at the hospital in…" now he did look over at the chrono. "Fuck. An hour!"

"We just got engaged, Jared. I think it's only natural to want to start planning the wedding."

A wedding. Right. Jared fell back onto the pillow, closing his eyes for a moment. "Shouldn't that wait until my brother gets back?"

He could feel the bed dip as Adrianne moved closer. "To get married, of course. But we can plan. I'm sure Jensen isn't going to be interested in fabric or floral design."

Jared grinned. He opened his eyes to the lovely view of his fiancé hovering over him, her long blond curls hanging down past her shoulders. "You'd be surprised." He reached out to tug on one curl. "We can't pick a date until he gets back anyway."

"He's on another secret mission?"

He nodded. "But it's the last one. After this he's out of the Corps for good."

Adrianne shifted again, swinging her leg over Jared's hip and straddling him. "But you don't know when he's coming back? Hard to plan without a date."

Jared slid his hand around her slim waist. "But it'll be one hell of a party."

She laughed, leaning down for a kiss. "How long did you say we had until you had to go in to work?"

With a swift movement Jared shifted them both until she was beneath him. "I have some vacation time due…"

He loved it when she laughed, but Jared loved to hear her moan even more.

***

They'd put him in a fucking cage. Ryan had fitted one of the official Confed slave collars around Jensen's neck before they dragged him on board their ship. He'd tried to get a look at the manifest before boarding, but it was hidden from the angle of the gangplank. Jensen let his shoulders slump as Trever dragged him inside. It wasn't like he could tell anyone, even if he had seen the name of the ship.

"Get him settled. I'll tell Patrick we're ready to go," Ryan commanded before leaving them.

Before Jensen could even think about making a break for it - bound and gagged as he was - he felt the press of a laser pistol against his back. "Walk, pretty boy."

Jensen by now was pretty damn sure Trevor wasn't a slave, but he couldn't figure out what he was. The ship wasn't much different from the two-man cruiser Kane and Carlson called home - standard Confed construction, smaller living quarters and a larger cargo compartment.

This cargo unit held cages. Dozens of them, tiny square boxes that could barely fit a man. Although Jensen did fit when Trevor shoved him inside, he just couldn't stand or straighten his legs in any way. The fake slave undid the binding keeping Jensen's hands behind his back, but the cuffs remained around his wrists. Jensen crouched on his hands and knees, watching as Trevor ripped the slave collar from his own throat.

"Had about enough of that." Trevor rubbed his throat. He reached between the bars and Jensen instinctively flinched. With a smirk, Trevor released the catch on the ball gag and pulled it away.

Jensen brought his lips together and swallowed in relief. He didn't speak, not until Trevor returned with a squirt bottle full of water. "Open." The cool liquid on his tongue was like elixir, relieving his dry throat.

"Who are you people?" he asked, croaking the words out.

Trevor tugged on the lock on the cage, inspecting it for a moment. "What, you're not buying the whole slave traders who just got lucky?"

"Nobody is that lucky," Jensen spat. Not when they knew how to find his tracer, or how to decode his serial number into giving his identity. This was a plot and it was his job to unravel it.

Trevor tapped the water bottle against the cage. "Luck generally runs out. You think the UP were the only ones to come up with the whole sex warrior concept?" He snorted. "The Parvati Project is superior in every way compared to your pitiful little Sex Corps."

Jensen gripped the cold metal bars between his fingers. It had been only a matter of time before the Confed figured them out. "So why do this? Kidnap the scuts?"

"You mean arrest war criminals." Trevor looked offended for a moment. He returned to the front of the cargo hold before coming back with a shallow metal pan, which he shoved under the narrow slot just under Jensen's cage. "You need to piss, do it out the bars, there's a ditch along the walls. This," he gestured to the pan, "is for everything else. I'll be back when it's feeding time. Enjoy your trip." Trevor leaned close to the cage, his next words had a hard bite, "It's not like you're going to live much longer when it's over."

***

Jensen thought of Harmony. He couldn't help but compare this cage to the one Duke Adrian had locked him inside. That cage had kept him completely immobile, positioned for fucking, a perfect little sex toy. It had been only the first in a series of torment Adrian meant to use to break him. He remembered how it had felt in the Obliette, unable to feel anything but the solitude of his own mind. Jensen would have begged for anything, even pain then.

This cage wasn't meant to be sexual, it was mean to demean and incapacitate. They always kept the lights on in the cargo hold, so Jensen never knew how much time had passed. He counted the number of times Trevor came to feed him - nutrient rich goop through a tube - or bathe him by blasting a hose through the bars of the cage. Jensen had never felt more like an animal.

Especially when they finally came for him. Jensen guessed it had been about five days, judging how sore his muscles felt and the number of visits from Trevor. When he crawled out of the cage Jensen knew he couldn't stand. His legs cramped up and he collapsed at the feet of his captors.

"Not like we need you to walk," Ryan said before jabbing a hypo in his neck. Jensen blinked twice and then he was out.

***

Running the Reclamation Project had been much easier when finding potential survivors was only a theory and not a reality. Jeff hadn't counted on this much paperwork, and after regaining ties with two colonies, he had plenty of reports to catch up on, never mind the intricacies in dealing with the people of Harmony.

Jeff scratched his scalp with his stylus, the words on his tablet blurring into one another. A knock on the wall drew his attention and he looked up at Caroline Chickezie who stood in the doorway. He was alone in the Project's offices, the section of the ship filled with labs, conference rooms and storage areas all set aside for his team's use.

"I just came by to deliver the samples we collected today. I didn't expect to see you here, Commander."

He tapped the stylus against the table. "Someone has to read all the reports you wrote."

She chuckled. "Have you given any more thought to splitting the team?"

It had come up at the last staff meeting, putting an officer in charge of each planet and letting Jeff off of fieldwork. Thing was, he liked the fieldwork; it was the best part of this whole job. Jeff wasn't sure how much longer he was going to manage the whole thing by himself.

"Not yet. I think we can manage. A few more colonies under our belt and I might change my mind. Besides, soon enough the base on 328 will be up and running and out of my hands."

"True," she said, but she didn't look convinced. "Good night, Commander."

Jeff stared out the doorway for a while after she left. He couldn't help but think about how smoothly he'd worked with Jensen, before they left for Harmony. Even when he hardly knew him as anything else but the scut he had been assigned to work with, they had fit together. Somehow Jensen had just known was Jeff needed and simply did it.

Maybe there could be a place for Jensen here. Jeff could use the help and he knew they could work well together. If Jensen left the Corps, he could get assigned as a civilian member.

Jeff closed his eyes and sunk his head into his folded arms on the table. When? How long would Jensen be in deep cover? Would he even want that?

All Jeff knew was that he missed Jensen by his side. He had a flash of Jensen grinning as he sat up on the conference table, swinging his legs like a child.

Stars, he missed Jensen.

***

  
When Jensen woke up he was bound, spread eagled, his hands and feet sealed in some sort of contraption, all circuits and plastic that surrounded his skin like oversized boots and solid gloves. His bigger concern as he opened his eyes was the man watching him standing next to that Ryan bitch. They weren't on the ship anymore, but Jensen couldn't even guess at his new location. The room was sterile, cold, like a hospital ward or a medical lab.

"Ah, there we go." The man had a large tablet in his hand and he proceeded to make some notes.

Jensen needed information. He hated going into a job blind, and everything they'd planned for had been fucked to all hell in less than thirty seconds. "Who the hell are you?"

"Hmm," the man checked something off before giving Jensen his full attention. "You haven't told him anything?"

"No, Doctor Isaacs," Ryan said, giving Jensen one of those sideways smirks. "Although I think Trev might have let some things slip."

Isaacs shook his head. "You are Jensen Ackles, Lieutenant, senior grade in the UP military?"

Jensen tried to affect a shrug, difficult with how he was strung up. "Apparently you're the one with all the info."

"And all the power. You should remember that. Right now you're property of the Confederation of Free Planets."

He barely refrained from snorting at that. Really, did they not see the irony? "Right, I know how that works. Why aren't I in a mine somewhere?"

Isaacs grinned. "Would you prefer that? It can be arranged, perhaps. If you're still intact when we're done here."

A chill ran down his spine at those words. "Doing what, exactly?"

"Right now? Inspection." Isaacs nodded at his tablet as he circled Jensen slowly, always writing notes.

Ryan continued to smirk at him, leaning against something that looked like an examination table. Jensen swallowed hard at the sight of it. What kind of inspection did Isaacs mean?

Almost as soon as he thought it, Jensen felt the sudden pain in his right shoulder blade. Isaacs was behind him, Jensen could feel the warmth of his body against his back. Jensen sucked in a breath, at first not sure what Isaacs was doing back there. But then the scent reached his nose, the metallic tang of blood.

Jensen stilled. They had his file. They knew. Somehow against all odds, they knew his weaknesses. He had to play this right, pretend it didn't bother him.  But he couldn't help the tension in his muscles, how his body stiffened at the touch of the blade on his skin.

"What was the purpose of your mission?" Isaac's voice came like the wind just below Jensen's ear.

Jensen swallowed but didn't respond.

Isaac's continued to circle Jensen, now facing him, he held a long thin scalpel in one hand, the tablet tucked under the other arm. "Hmm? Don't feel like talking about that? How about you tell me what happened to Daneel Harris."

As he spoke Isaac flicked the scalpel, slicing a neat length down the center of Jensen's chest. "How do you people know this?" Jensen demanded. He didn't look down, didn't even flinch at the cut, trying not to think about it. He focused on Ryan's sly grin, the curve her body made against the bed.

Isaacs stepped back, blocking Jensen's view as he pulled out his tablet and checked it again. "I see." He reached up with the blade and slid along Jensen's forearm.

"You seem to know everything already. Why do you even need to talk to me?" Jensen could hear the breathless quality in his voice, and his lungs tightened at the need to get more air.

"Daneel Harris. Where is she?"

Jensen saw the red trail down his arm out of the corner of his eye. He felt the liquid drip onto his shoulder, sliding so slowly down his skin. His belly clenched. "She's dead," he whispered, black spots appearing before his eyes.

Isaacs said something, but Jensen couldn't hear him. Everything seemed so far away as he gave in and passed out.

A splash of cold water to his face brought him back. Jensen coughed and blinked, pulling on his restraints which didn't give at all.

"Well now that was educational." Ryan stood with her arms crossed over her chest. An empty bucket sat at her feet. Jensen could probably blame her for the good soaking. "I don't know how you managed at all if you go down so quickly. At this rate, Doc, you'll have him broken in a week."

Jensen struggled to keep calm at her words. He bit his lip to keep back the harsh words ready to break free.

"You'd be surprised, my girl." Isaacs wrote notes on his tablet.

"Master Isaacs?" A voice had Jensen looking over to where a young man had entered the room. He wore a slave collar and not a stitch of clothing. But apparently that wasn't enough. The boy had brightly colored tattoos that covered his forearms and legs, one side red, the other blue and green. As he stepped closer Jensen gasped. The slave had two cocks, hanging hard and heavy between his legs. "Master Alan said you'd summoned me."

A smile curved across Isaacs' face, the expression making Jensen want to shudder. "Yes, my boy. Just wanted to show off one of our success stories. Come."

The slave dropped to his knees and crawled across the floor, revealing the row of spikes that went down his spine, reminding Jensen of a lizard. He snuggled against Isaac's leg, climbing it like an animal.

"What do you think of my latest acquisition, pet?" Isaac's stroked his hand through the slave's hair.

The slave turned his gaze onto Jensen. He opened his mouth and licked his lips, revealing a forked tongue. "Pretty. What are you going to do to this one?"

Isaacs looked like he was seriously contemplating the question. "I'm sure I'll come up with something. I did spectacular work on you, boy, didn't I?"

Jensen realized all the boy's modifications must have been done by Doctor Isaacs. His heart beat so loudly it was all he could hear. What the hell did Isaacs want to do to Jensen?

"Ryan, take him to his cage," Isaacs turned away, obviously done with whatever he needed to do. "I need some time to work on this case."

Ryan smirked at Jensen. He had never wanted to punch someone so much.

***

Jensen's cage was one in a series along a hallway, set into the walls with a low ceiling and iron bars. It made him think of some warped human zoo. They didn't need to use the bars, forceshields would have worked perfectly well, but the Confed had always been about psyching out the mind.

Which was probably why Ryan had taken him past 'the lounge' on their way down here. Jensen couldn't stop thinking about the woman he saw serving there. She had worn a serving collar, not completely out of the ordinary. It fit around her mouth giving it the extra support needed to attach a serving tray or a dildo, or whatever her master so wished. It was when she turned around that Jensen had gasped. Her arms were more than just bound behind her back, the skin had been stitched together so she could never separate her arms again.

He curled his arms around his knees, sitting up against the wall in his cell. Like the cages on the ship, the ceiling was too low for him to stand, but at least Jensen could stretch out if he wanted. The floor was stone cold against his ass, with a narrow ditch along the back wall for a latrine. Jensen had gagged into it a few times, his mouth still sour from the men Ryan had let him 'service' up in the lounge.

Jensen ran his finger along his forearm. They'd healed the cuts Isaac's had made, but hadn't left the skin sealer on long enough, leaving a thin white scar. Of course, they didn't give a damn about marking him. Jensen wasn't worth anything but the pleasure his pain and suffering would bring.

A clang on one of the bars had him lifting his head. Jensen crawled to the front of his cell and listened hard. There were twenty cells, but he'd noted only about ten of them had a prisoner inside. Jensen didn't know if they were all scuts who'd gone missing or what had happened to the other 17. The woman from upstairs had looked familiar, but Jensen hadn't recognized her from either his time at the academy or the series of vids he'd looked at before this mission.

The clang turned into a series of taps from the cell diagonal to his. Jensen recognized it after a moment. It was an old code, something they learned back at the Academy in military history, even though it wasn't used anymore. Mike and Tom had gotten a kick out of it, tapping out obscene messages during class.

The tapping spelled out his name. Jensen tapped back quickly. "Yes. Who are you?"

He closed his eyes when the tapping came back with the name "Mike." Mike's name hadn't been on the list of missing. Even though he was overdue for returning from his mission, they'd had no evidence to think he'd ended up with the other missing scuts on Tanvir.

Jensen pressed close to the bars, trying to see his friend. "Are you ok?" he tapped back, slow and methodical, still not sure he got all the letters correct.

He heard a snort in reply. Jensen smiled, yeah, that was Mike all right. He wondered why Mike didn't speak to him at first, but realized they couldn't give their captors any more ammo to use against them. Not when the Confed already held all the cards. Jensen leaned his forehead against the bars, the cold metal soothing. At least he wasn't alone here. Maybe, with Mike's help, he'd survive this after all.

***  
The first time they pulled both Jensen and Mike out of their cells Jensen wondered if he'd somehow given away that they were friends. Maybe their captors had figured out the tapping on the bars was more than just boredom. Or perhaps those files detailed a lot more than just their military careers and sexual preferences.

Jensen tried to swallow down his fear as one of the guards hit the control switch for the gauntlets that covered Jensen's arms from fingers to elbows. They were effective restraints, clamping down over his hands whether Jensen held them out or not. He was forced to follow the guard, the cuffs pulling him in the right direction.

Mike had his own guard leading him, and he was careful not to look back at Jensen as they walked out of the corridor of cells. Nothing stopped Jensen from taking in Mike's too thin frame, his pale skin and shaved head. How long had Mike been trapped here?

As they stepped onto the platform of the only lift that led out of here, Jensen brushed his bare hip against Mike's, hoping it looked like an accident. It was the only comfort he could give, that moment of skin to skin contact that told Mike he was here.

The doors slid open to reveal Isaacs' lab. Fuck. Jensen felt like there was a pit of ice in his belly. It always ached, the nutrient sludge that they forced down his throat was never enough to satisfy his hunger, and now it roiled. He had to choke down the urge to vomit. Jensen couldn't show his anxiety, couldn't let Isaacs know how much he got to him.

"Excellent! Two perfect specimens, thank you gentlemen." The man in question appeared from behind a row of hospital beds. He was in the process of pulling on a pair of long rubber gloves.

"Where do you want 'em?"

"Oh, I think I have it from here." Isaacs took the control box from one of the guards. He had a smile on his face, looking more than eager at the prospect of whatever he had planned.

When the guards left Jensen knew it was going to be bad. He just couldn't guess how bad.

Issacs forced them both into a room empty of anything except for drains in the tiled floor. The walls were just as pristine and cold, with hoses hung on hooks. At first Jensen didn't understand why Issacs brought them here just to wash them. The guards already blasted water through the bars of their cages, whether the scuts were awake or not.

His arms were lifted against his will, the gauntlets pulling them up over his head, so high Jensen had to stand on his toes, which barely scraped the floor. He gasped, taken aback by how quickly he'd been put in his place.

Mike still stood next to Isaacs, his expression blank, eyes lowered, still not looking at Jensen. One of the gauntlets sputtered and then released Mike's right hand, which he flexed before curling it into a fist.

"Do you know our new scut?" Issacs said, his tone as conversational as if they were all sitting around a table having lunch. "You know, I've found quite a few of you do know each other. Wonder if that's how they trained you, made you all fuck each other in the barracks."

Mike flinched at his words, but didn't speak.

"Well, I suppose I should introduce you." Issacs stepped across the room, touching Jensen's bare torso with his rubber clad fingers. Jensen knew better than to struggle. He tried to keep his breathing even and not tense with anticipation. "We have here one Jensen Ackles. Serial number kaz2y5. Submissive. And with a lovely little aversion to blood."

Jensen could feel his heart race. Hearing his file summed up that way, by someone who had no right to that information, filled him with anger. He tried to hold on to it, letting the rage keep him from other emotions.

"Handy of them, don't you think?" Isaacs turned back to Mike. "To put everything in that file, just so we can pluck it out." He reached into the pocket of his labcoat and pulled out a slim silver scalpel. "Your file, also so very interesting." Isaacs waved the blade before Mike's eyes. "Sadist. Loves to give pain. Why, Rosenbaum, you are a gentleman after my own heart."

Mike wouldn't, Jensen thought. There was no way Isaacs could force him to do this. No way.

He kept thinking that right up until the electric shock from the slave collar had his limbs twitching in pain. Jensen screamed, head thrown back. It felt like he was on fire from the inside, burning from fingertips to toes.

It stopped, blessed relief, as Jensen sagged in his bonds. Then he felt the bite of the scalpel into his skin, the sharp slice along his lower back almost a release when compared to the lightning pain from before. He looked over his shoulder and met Mike's eyes as Mike cut him once again.

"Mike," Jensen tried to speak, to say anything that could make this better.

"Shh." Mike eyes flicked over to where Isaacs was still standing and watching.  There would be no way to communicate. Not like this.

"And you call yourself a sadist?" Isaacs mocked, interrupting the moment. "There's hardly any blood at all. Perhaps you need a bigger knife."

Jensen didn't pass out until Mike was given his third blade of the session – long and jagged and lethally sharp. There was no way to cut gently with that, not even for someone as experienced as Mike.

Mike's stricken face was the last thing he saw, as the metallic scent of the blood overtook everything, made it so Jensen couldn't breathe. Dark spots clouded his vision and Jensen fell into unconsciousness gratefully.

Only to gasp awake as bitter cold water hit his body and washed the blood away. Isaacs had a skin sealer in his hand. It was only the beginning.

***

Jensen didn't find out why Mike couldn't scream until they were both sent to the lounge together. They always brought him to the lounge when Isaacs was busy with another scut. It was almost like they didn't want him to get too complacent, to forget there was even more torment awaiting him.

Although in the lounge Jensen could use his skills in a way he couldn't while bound at Isaacs' mercy. Here they just wanted to fuck him and they didn't care how or if he responded or not. Jensen understood that, hell, it had been the focus of most of his missions over the past ten years. He knew how to use that, to make himself more desirable.

The faces changed in the lounge. Jensen paid attention whenever he had his turn up here, and made a careful note of every person who'd pushed him down and took his mouth or his ass. They were dressed like upper-class Confed nobility for the most part, in brightly colored silks and flashy gold jewelry. Occasionally he'd spend a turn here with nothing but off-duty guards being given a reward, and those faces Jensen never forgot.

Today he knelt on his hands and knees, back flat to support the delicate glass of champagne the woman in pink silk had rested there. If he let it drop, she'd promised him twenty lashes with the whip hung on the wall behind the bar. Jensen knew he'd let it fall eventually. Even if he could keep still the entire time, either she or one of her friends would knock it off just to prove a point.

"A thousand chits if he doesn't let it fall," a male voice laughed.

"Now where would be the fun in that? I'm itching to get my hands on that whip already."

Jensen locked his muscles to keep from trembling. The whip could mean blood and he didn't need his weakness mocked here too.

"Look, Dhruv, there's that mouthy slut you took care of last time."

They all dissolved into laughter that had Jensen cringing at the sound. He saw Mike being led into the room, pushed until he fell on his hands and knees. One of the men – presumably Dhurv - lounging on the couch behind Jensen stood and went over to Mike.

"Why don't you open your mouth, slut? Tell me exactly what you think of me?"

More laughter as Dhurv undid the crotch of his pants, freeing a thick and heavy erection. "That's right, you can't, can you?"

He took a hold of Mike by the ears, forcing his jaw open. Just before Dhurv shoved himself inside Mike's too red mouth, Jensen caught sight of the ruined bit of flesh that used to be Mike's tongue.

The champagne glass shattered with a loud clinking as it hit the floor.


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

Captain Chris Kane glared at his ship's monitor, as if he could will the appearance of Jensen's tracer on the grid map. They'd lost the trail back on Tanvir, but the kid had had backups installed right onto his body. There should be something. Fuck, even if Jensen were dead, the god damned homing device should still be working.

"Kane, it's been three months." Steve's voice came from the corridor, as if he didn't want to venture out on the bridge. "You don't think I've tried everything I could?"

Kane swiveled around in the Captain's chair. "Then we gotta try something else. He can't have just disappeared."

"It's a big galaxy. People disappear all the time."

But not Jensen. Kane had pulled that kid out of the fire too many times. Somehow he thought the mouthy scut would always land on his feet, no matter what happened. He just couldn't accept that he'd seen the last of him.

Kane startled as he felt Steve's hand on his shoulder. He hadn't noticed the other man coming closer.

"Look, we might have tried everything on the network, but there's one thing we haven't. You've got contacts in the Confed who know people who know people. We could actually talk to them."

He straightened in his chair, meeting Steve's eyes to see if he were serious about that. Kane nodded. "We can do that. I'll make up a list."

***

Jensen didn't expect the camera - that tiny hovering unblinking eye, staring at him - when they pulled off the hood he'd been forced to wear since they dragged him out of his cage. He wasn't alone. A quick glance, and he'd learned to be quick, showed him five other slaves knelt in the row next to him. Mike was just to his right, giving Jensen a piercing look before focusing his attention to the front.

It wasn't easy to look at his friend, not after the past weeks of being forced to hurt each other. The scars from that crisscrossed all down Jensen's back. At this point he was thankful he just didn't have to see them, unlike the burn marks that traced up Mike's left side. He swallowed hard and tried to focus on whatever the hell Isaacs wanted from them now. What the hell was the camera for?

He got the answer soon enough. Ryan led the group of Confed troops guarding them, all wearing a variation of the normal Confed force uniform - buckles and straps, black and turquoise. He hadn't thought Ryan was military, but this was the first he'd seen her so dressed.

"All of you." She gripped Jensen's hair first and forced his head up and back. "State your name and rank for the camera."

If they were about to do what Jensen thought they were…A pit of ice formed in his belly. Things had been quiet from the Confed recently, but an action like this would force the UP into total war.

He stared at the blinking camera. "Ackles, Jensen. Captain," he choked through dry lips. They never gave him enough to drink, it seemed. Everything was just enough to keep him alive, but barely comfortable.

Ryan went down the line, slapping those who didn't cooperate, although for Mike she just forced him to show the ruined remnants of his tongue. Then she moved in front of them, the camera tracking her.

"This is the cream of your resistance? You cannot defeat us in battle so you send whores against the Confederation, to attack us where we sleep. We've known about your stupid little sex corps for years. And like all things, we can do it better. Our own bedroom warriors have been placed in the highest levels of your government. Think about that the next time you turn out the lights." She tilted her head. "We will no longer sit by idly. Every one of your scuts we find we will take for ourselves. Don't even try to retrieve them. Just to show you we're serious…" Ryan nodded at one of the guards.

It happened so quickly. Jensen hadn't even been expecting it, though he probably should have. The soldier pulled out a large knife (later he wondered, why a knife, why not a laser rifle?) and used it to slit Mike's throat.

Jensen caught him as he fell, eyes wide open in shock, blood pumping from his lacerated neck. "Mike," he gasped, unable to help himself. Mike's blood covered him, staining Jensen's hands red.  It pooled on the floor, all around the other horrified scuts, who crawled away. Jensen couldn't get away, the stuff surrounded him, sticking on his flesh, the last bit of life Mike would ever live.

***

Back in his cell later Jensen curled around himself, trying to stop shaking. At least the tears at stopped. He needed to try to sleep. They didn't give him long at all before the next session, whether it was in Isaac's lab or one of the lounges. But every time he closed his eyes Jensen saw red.

He hadn't let himself think about Jeff since he'd gotten here. He'd needed the focus to survive and it just plain hurt too much. For the first time Jensen really thought he might not make it out of this alive. All his plans for the future, for him and Jeff, for going back to Earth and watching Jared get married, all that ended the moment he saw Mike's dead eyes looking up at him.

Jensen pictured Jeff's arms around him, holding him. He could pretend this cage was just another scene, something he'd do willingly for his lover, his true master. Jeff would come get him any moment now and wrap Jensen up in his warm embrace. For just a little bit, Jensen could make it all go away.

***

Jared walked through the hospital hallway humming under his breath. He'd just assisted on the surgery of a little girl, who'd now be able to walk because of him and Doctor Graham. This was why he'd become a doctor in the first place. It made all the late nights and stress worth it.

He grinned at the nurses at their station, giving them a little wave before he headed toward the doctor's lounge. With luck he'd get some lunch and a little nap before going back on duty. Although Jared felt a little too wired to sleep, if he didn't try now he wouldn't be able to make it through the evening shift.

The lounge door slid shut behind him. Jared was surprised to find a crowd in the room. When he entered, all conversation died. Elisha had tears in her eyes as she came up to him and grasped his arms. "Oh, Jared. I'm so sorry."

"What's going on?" He took her by her shoulders, trying to see if something was wrong with her.

"On the media feed." The doctor who spoke Jared didn't know. He stepped out of the way and revealed the news broadcast the others had hidden with their bodies.

"Start it from the beginning," Brian choked out.

Jared saw the perky face of Katie Couric, one of the reporters for the UP Earth network. She was dressed in a light gray suit, sitting behind a desk, but she looked about ready to burst out of her chair.

"What you are about to see is footage exclusively provided to UPEN by the Confed ambassador directly. As of this broadcast, no one seems able to contact the ambassador. I should warn you, the images you are about to see are extremely graphic. No children should be present for this…"

The hologram fizzled, giving way to a 2-D display. That's why it took Jared a moment to realize exactly what he was seeing. "No," he whispered, seeing Jensen's face among the Confed's hostages.

When the blood started to flow, Jared could only give thanks it wasn't Jensen's. He stepped back, but the broadcast kept going.

"Now," Katie Couric said, still with that earnest perky face. "We are trying to determine the extent of the threat from the Confed. UPEN has reporters investigating the claim of this 'sex corps' as well as the individuals now held prisoner by the Confed. The question everyone is asking, of course, is will this increase hostilities in space? As you know, the last conflict…"

"Turn it off," Jared said. He had to wet his lips and say it again before anyone understood him. "Turn the damn thing off."

"Jared," Elisha still had hold of one of his arms. "Are you all right?"

He couldn't answer her. "I have to go. I just…" Jared turned around and left the lounge, unable to speak.

***

Jeff's hands were shaking as he walked into the tent that served as his temporary office down on 328. He stopped in mid step when he saw the Captain was sitting at his desk. Devine never left the ship. It went against all protocol.

She pulled something from under the desk and let the glass bottle thump on the table. "I brought the good whiskey." 

"You saw it then," Jeff said. He let the flap fall closed behind him and dropped into one of the extra chairs facing his own desk.

Devine poured herself a shot into a tiny little glass and pushed the bottle towards him. Jeff took a hefty swig, closing his eyes as it burned down his throat. This wouldn't solve anything. The pain would still be there when the buzz from the alcohol dimmed and Jeff would have a headache in addition to a broken heart. But right now he didn't give a damn.

"Feed made it to Harmony. We never should have set up a channel on their tele."

"Yeah, well, it's too late to change it now." Jeff curled his fingers around the neck of the bottle. He concentrated on how the glass felt against his skin, the warmth stirring in his belly.

"This going to cause a problem with their Queen, Commander?"

Right then Jeff hated Devine. He appreciated the liquor, and that she came down here to speak with him. But if the most important thing was the fucking UP's relations with Harmony, then Jeff didn't want to talk to her.

"No." Jeff shook his head. "If they didn't hate the Confed before, they sure as fuck do now. Jensen is pretty darn popular in Harmony." He swallowed more whiskey, feeling the buzz finally hit his head. "How…how old is that feed?"

Devine downed her shot and then stared at the empty glass. "Nobody knows. Would be just like the Confed to string us along and then. . ." She trailed off and when she looked up at Jeff her eyes were wet.

And then kill all the prisoners. Jeff curled in on himself, unable to even consider the possibility that Jensen was dead. "What." He cleared his throat. "How is the UP going to respond?"

She pulled out a tablet and read the words from the private message she received from the admiral himself.

Jeff threw the bottle across the tent. It hit the cloth before clunking onto the ground, brown liquid seeping into the earth.

***

"You gotta be fucking kidding me."

Kane knew those words didn't bode any good news. Whenever Steve swore, Kane knew he meant serious business. "What's the problem, kid?"

Steve dropped his head in his hands, letting his earpiece fall onto the deck. "I've been following all the news feeds, trying to see if I can find any leads on Jensen."

Kane slid into the chair, bracing himself for bad news. "And?"

"The Confed is using them all as hostages." Steve flicked a switch, displaying the feed on the ship's monitors.

Biting his lip, Kane watched the feed, not speaking until it came to its bloody conclusion. He cleared his throat. "So just how long we got before the UP sends the armada this way?"

"That's just it, there's nothing in the data I've collected that shows the UP is marshalling any response at all. It's like they're ignoring it completely!"

"Fuckers," Kane spat. "Don't care when it's a coupla scuts dying."

"Yeah, well, I care, damn it." Steve plugged his earpiece back in. "And we're going to find him, with or without the UP."

***

"Jared?" Adrianne called his name as she opened the apartment door. She listened for a moment, hearing only the muted voices of the holo projector.

She found him curled up on the bed. He looked so small somehow, which was one hell of an illusion since she knew exactly how big Jared was. Jared rubbed at his knee absently as he watched the repeated broadcast. Dri wondered if it was bothering him, but she knew better than to ask. Not now.

"Turn it off, Jared," she said softly, coming to sit next to him on the bed. Dri ran her hand through his soft hair. "It's not going to help him if you keep torturing yourself."

He turned and buried his face in her shoulder, pulling her close. She could feel him trembling against her body. "It's my fault, Dri. He never would have joined up if I hadn't been sick."

She stroked his hair and let him have it out. Dri bit her lip as she watched the images in the holo viewer, how the camera seemed to zoom in on Jensen's face as the body fell towards him. His eyes widened, and he shouted something the feed hadn't picked up. Jensen just looked terrible. Too thin, with dark bruises under his eyes. How long had they had him?

"None of it is your fault," she said. Dri groped around with her free hand till she found the remote and snapped the damn thing off. "If you have to blame someone blame the damn Confed."

"It's not that simple." Jared pulled away and wiped at his eyes. He pushed himself out of bed and walked into the bathroom. Dri watched as he splashed water on his face.

"I tried comming you from work," she leaned against the doorway. "But you didn't pick up." Dri hadn't wanted him to see the footage alone. But it had been far too late to warn him.

"Shut it off." Jared patted his face dry, wiping his hands with exaggerated care. "Couldn't deal with everyone calling me to see if I was okay."

Because Jared wasn't okay. Dri knew his brother meant everything to her fiancé. They were the only family each other had. The only thing she could do was offer her support. "Jared…" she started as he walked past her, picking up the remote again. "Don't watch it again…"

"Wasn't going to." Jared pulled up the comm menu instead. "I'm going to get General Ferris on the line and I'm going to get her to give me some damn answers!"

She didn't get a chance to respond before the hologram changed, showing the icon that meant a call was in progress. Adrianne just watched as a person in the dark red uniform of the Sex Corps answered.

"I need to speak with General Ferris," Jared told the aide. "Tell her it's Jared Ackles."

Dri caught the flinch in the features of the aide before a smooth mask covered his face. "General Ferris is in meetings for the rest of the evening. I can have her call you back?"

Jared's fists clenched and he took a deep breath to calm himself. "What's the soonest I can get in to see her?"

The aide seemed surprised at the request. "Um. She has about fifteen minutes before her first meeting tomorrow morning at 0900…"

"I'll be there," Jared snapped. He cut the connection before the aide could argue.

"I'll check the shuttle times," Dri offered. "You should pack if we're going to spend the night in DC."

Jared turned. "We?"

"I'm not going to let you go alone."

A sad smile crossed his face. Jared swept her into an embrace and held her close. "Thank you."

***

Jared tapped his thigh absently as they waited just outside Ferris' office. He'd been here before, years ago when he'd asked Ferris to be the first to tell him if anything ever happened to Jensen. The entire Atlantic base had been home once, more familiar to him than the house he'd grown up in. Here he'd relearned how to walk, went to high school, watched Jensen become a soldier. Jared realized he needed to call Sam Smith, see if she was on base. He ached to see her, talk to her about all of this.

Adrianne touched his arm and he sat up straight, startled. She pointed to where Ferris' aide had just come out the office door. "I think you're up."

Jared stood and straightened his shirt. As he moved toward the door the aide said, "Remember, only fifteen minutes. The press conference is at nine."

Jared wanted to tell the little runt that he planned to take exactly as long as he needed to. And then maybe shove the kid against the wall. Instead he only nodded and passed through the open doorway, the door sliding shut behind him.

General Ferris sat behind a glass and steel desk, the surface covered with data pads and tablets, a holo unit on the corner. She was scribbling something with a stylus and didn't even look up when he entered.

"You promised me you'd be the first to tell me if something happened to Jensen," he burst out, not caring if he sounded like a whiney five year old.

Ferris's snapped up. "Jared." She stood and came around the desk.

Jared stuck out his hand to prevent her from doing anything so annoying as hugging him. He didn't want comfort from her, he wanted assurances.

Ferris shook his hand, cupping her free hand over their joined grip for just a moment. "I would have contacted you. But the damn media got a hold of the footage before we did." She gestured to one of the chairs in front of her desk. Jared sat, thinking the cushions were far more comfortable out in the waiting area.

She moved to sit back behind her desk. "Damn Confed sent it to the media on purpose. Hoping to incite a panic."

Jared didn't give a damn who panicked, just as long as they brought his brother home. "So what's the plan?" he asked. "How are we going to get him back?"

"Jared," she said. Ferris took a deep breath before continuing. "We don't even know how old that footage is. By now, Jensen is probably dead."

"He's not." Jared nearly jumped out of the chair. He held on to the arms, fingers digging into the cheap fake leather.

"Even if he's alive…" She folded her hands in front of her, looking at him with soft eyes. "He's probably deep in the Confed. There's no way we'd get a team inside, especially since they're looking for scuts."

"You can't do that. You can't just leave him there!"

"It wasn't my decision to make!" Ferris snapped back at him, sounding more like herself. "The joint chiefs have been meeting since the damn video hit the feeds. They're going to dismantle the sex corps. We've got to protect the people we have left!"

"I thought loyalty meant something," Jared said. "Jensen would never have left anyone behind."

Ferris picked up a tablet from her desk and handed it out to him. "You're right. He wouldn't have."

Jared took the tablet and skimmed the screen. "What the hell is this?" The words blurred before his eyes. This couldn't mean what he thought it did.

"Captain Ackles put some measures in place in case anything happened to him while on duty."

"But I thought he sold the ranch." Jensen had done whatever he could to pay for Jared's medical care.

Ferris shook her head. "He turned the property over to the Corps. We've been collecting the profits ever since. But now…it's yours."

All things considered, Jared would damn rather have Jensen back. "This doesn't make everything all better," he snapped.

"I don't expect it to." Ferris seemed to sink into her chair. Her face looked narrow and pinched, with dark rings under her eyes. "But it's all I have to give you, Jared."

This wasn't over. Jared knew he'd find a way to bring Jensen home, even if he had to do it himself. "Thank you for your time, General."

"I have to be there for the press conference. But you call me if you need anything, Jared."

Jared knew he wouldn't.

When he got back to the waiting area Dri was on her comm, plugged into her ear and talking in a low voice. Jared felt a pang of guilt. She'd taken off from work to come here with him and he knew she probably had more important things to do.

"I gotta go, I'll call you back," she said, touching her earpiece. "Jared, what happened?"

He took her by the arm and propelled her out of the office area. Last thing he wanted was giving that obnoxious aide the satisfaction of listening to their conversation. Jared punched the button for the elevator before he finally spoke. "They're not going after him. They're not going after any of them. Might just dismantle the damn sex corps."

"Jared…"

He waved the tablet at her. "Oh but the good news is that Jensen left me our childhood home." Jared threw it against the wall of the elevator when the damn doors finally opened. It bounced and clattered to the floor, none the worse for wear.

Dri stepped into the car and scooped it up. "Stars, Jared. The things your brother did for you…"

He punched the button sending them back down. "I know."

Jared leaned his head against the wall of the car. It felt cool against his forehead. He remembered that he'd wanted to talk to Sam. If anyone knew what to do in this fucked up situation, it would be her. He pulled his portable out of his pocket and punched in her code.

"Jared!" her voice came over his comm sounding excited. "Oh, Jared."

"Hi Sam. I'm at the base. Are you around?"

"Still stationed here sweetheart. You want to meet up for brunch?"

Sure, why the hell not? He still needed to eat. "Not on base, though." No, he couldn't bear to be around the cadets and other soldiers, all the time being reminded of the sacrifices Jensen had made.

"Do you know Amy's Place over the bridge? It's an outdoor café, nice view of the ocean. I'll meet you there in twenty minutes."

"See you, Sam."

***

Sam hugged him the moment Jared walked into the gated terrace of the café. He could stand it from her. She was the closest thing he and Jensen had to family.

Jared pulled away after a moment and cough. "Sam, do you remember Dri?"

Sam smiled at his fiancé. "Of course I do. Nice to see you again, Adrianne."

Dri hugged her too. "Glad to see you, too."

"Come on, I have a table for us." Sam led the way, pulling out an intricately patterned chair around a delicate looking glass table. He could put his fist through it if he wasn't careful.

The menu appeared on the table, holograms just under the surface. Jared picked a few things at random, not hungry, and not sure if he could even eat once the food got there.

"We just got back from seeing the general," Dri was saying to Sam. Thank god someone was able to carry on their part of the conversation.

"They're not even going to look for him," Jared blurted.

Sam stopped tapping at her menu. "What?"

"There's a press conference going on right about now. I'm sure they'll show it on the feed." Jared didn't know if this place had a holo projector. It wasn't a damn sports bar. "Apparently it's too risky. They're even talking about shutting down the sex corps."

Sam frowned, her brows coming together rather seriously. "Not going to happen. We're too important."

"Sam," Jared said. "We have to do something. I can't just leave him out there, never knowing what happened to him."

He slipped one hand into his pocket, fingering the tablet. What the hell did Jensen think he was going to do with the Ackles Ranch? Right now he wanted to shake his brother, tell Jensen he never should have gone back on active duty. What use was the ranch without Jensen there to see it with him?

"I have a few contacts on the border," Sam said. "I can contact them, but Jared, you understand I can't do anything officially. Not if I want to be in a position to help you."

Just her willingness to help meant everything. "That's great, Sam, that would be really great."

Dri pursed her lips and appeared deep in thought. "Who could overrule the Generals' decision on this? I mean, would it take the entire UP Senate or just one Senator?"

Of course, Dri worked for the Earth senate office, but Jared didn't think that gave her the influence to get the senator to bring it to the floor. But the idea ticked something in his memory.

"I think it would have to go up for a vote," Sam said.

"Senator McKellen." Jared sat up straight as he voiced the name. "Jensen worked for him at one time. Do you think he could do something?"

"He's the Senator for Quartzta. That gives him a lot of power." Dri stood, her hand on her earpiece. "I'm going to call my boss. See if he can get you an appointment."

Jared wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs. Just when one chance had been swept again, Dri had given him another. He was going to grab on to this chance and do whatever necessary to save Jensen. No matter what Jared had to do.

***

His assistant seemed to be in a particularly agitated mood this morning. Senator Ian McKellen took off his official jacket and hung it on the hook. "What is it, Cadet Wesley? Someone give you decaf instead of regular this morning?"

Paul Wesley apparently had learned by now not to respond to the senator's jibes. Shame. Part of the fun was riling up these scuts.

"You have a young man waiting in your office."

"Oh, I wasn't aware of an appointment?" McKellen went over his schedule mentally, nearly sure he hadn't scheduled anything this morning.

"It was a special request on the part of the Senator from Earth." Wesley's tone was as icey as his expression. McKellen made a note to get his aide to loosen up just a tad.

"Senator Bridges." He knew Lloyd. He was a good man. What was he sending McKellen's way? "Who's the young man?"

"He said his name was Jared Ackles."

McKellen paused in the middle of grabbing his morning coffee from the dispenser in the wall. "Ackles, you say? Hold all my calls, Wesley. And don't interrupt."

"Yes, sir."

He did bring the coffee in with him, sipping it slowly to cover his surprise. This tall, strapping young thing didn't bear the slightest bit of resemblance to Jensen. Although he did have some mighty fine charms of his own. McKellen let his gaze linger on those long legs, powerful thighs, and broad shoulders. When the young man turned around McKellen got the look of his features, pointed nose and chin, soft hair curling around his ears. Not a bad package at all.

"I don't believe we've been introduced, young man." McKellen held out his right hand. "Ian McKellen."

"Senator," the boy said. "It's an honor to meet you." He had a strong grip. McKellen could appreciate a man with a strong grip. "Jared Ackles."

"Any relation to Jensen Ackles?"

"He's my brother." Those sweet pink lips turned down into a frown. "He's why I'm here."

"Ah." McKellen set his mug on his desk. It was a bit early to start with the harder stuff, but right now he'd kill for a good Scotch. "I saw that bit on media feed. The lack of military response. Damn shame."

He meant it too. He still thought of Jen fondly. Few of the scuts assigned to Senate detail were as conscientious as Jensen. Or as bendy. The boy had been damn creative too, challenging McKellen to come up with some tricks of his own.

And Jensen had submitted so sweetly. McKellen had never met such a natural sub before. He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering Jensen's face, the way he'd bite his lip and moan, helpless beneath McKellen's hands.

"I was hoping you could do something to help. Maybe put it before the Senate." Jared all but fluttered his eyelashes.

"To order the military to take part in a highly publicized rescue mission?"

"To do something. Anything but leave any of those soldiers behind." For a moment McKellen saw a spark there, a fire beneath the kid's eyes. Then the lids lowered and Jared moved a step closer. "I'd be very…appreciative if you could."

Jared took another step towards him. He put a hand on McKellen's chest. It was very large, and very warm.

Oh, if he were twenty years younger and less scrupulous. Gently, he lifted Jared's hand and pulled it away. "Son, I'll be honest. You're terrible at seduction."

A pink flush rose on those cheeks and McKellen nearly rethought himself. McKellen walked around his desk. "But I liked Jensen. I don't know what I can do on the Senate floor, but I have a few other contacts who might be able to help."

For a moment he thought he saw a tear glisten in those beautiful slanted eyes. Then Jared nodded, his body relaxing. "Thank you. I just, I just want to bring him home."

McKellen grabbed his mug and took a long sip of his coffee. "I think all of the UP wants that, son. No one will forget his face." He tried not to think of it himself, the images from that vid enough to give anyone nightmares. Jensen's likeness had become a symbol for the UP, a symbol people flocked to in their outrage against the Confed.

A symbol that couldn't be ignored.

***

"Commander Morgan, could we have a moment of your time in the conference area?"

Jeff bristled at the interruption, looking up from the rows of crates he was checking against inventory. "I'm in the middle of something, Gyllenhaal."

"Just ten minutes. Please."

He needed to keep working. Ever since he'd seen the media feed - grainy and faded as it was - Jeff had immersed himself in his duties. Planet 724 might have possible survivors, but they could be living underground. He needed to figure out a way to investigate safely. But of course he had to be here on Harmony instead of working that out. It was next on the rotation for the Mercury's stops. Checking the progress on the base shouldn't have taken this long.

Jeff didn't want to stop. If he stopped, he'd have to think and then he'd remember.

Sometimes at night he thought he could still smell Jensen on his sheets. The scent would fill his nostrils just before he woke, when Jeff was caught in that moment before shaking off sleep. He'd catch spice and warmth and roll over, expecting his arm to catch against Jensen's skin. His hand touched cold sheets and Jeff would startle awake and realize he was alone. Jensen was gone.

"Ten minutes, Sergeant," Jeff agreed, following Gyllenhaal back to the structure set up for meetings. The base was well under construction, but it would be a little while yet before any of the rooms were usable.

Jeff entered the room, surprised to see it filled with people. There was Gyllenhaal of course, but also Chikezie and Whitfield. Dr. Johnson sat at the table, with Hank Tappen and his master, Guard Ian, standing behind him. Jeff gritted his teeth at the sight of them. You'd think they never had to rescue Hank, the way he'd given in completely to the Harmonian lifestyle. Behind them were the two scuts assigned to Harmony, Hodge and Bell, dressed no differently than Hank and Ian.

At his entrance all talking stopped. Jeff folded his arms. "Well? What's going on?"

It was Whitfield who spoke first. "We want to help."

Jeff blinked. "Help with what?"

At first nobody wanted to speak up. Then Hank, as usual, opened his mouth. "Rescue Ackles, of course."

Of all the things he didn't need. Jeff rubbed his forehead, trying to sooth the headache that hadn't started yet. "What the hell gave all of you that idea?"

"We all saw the broadcast," Caroline spoke up. "We want to be a part of the mission support."

Before anyone else could put in their opinion, Jeff held up a hand. "There isn't going to be a rescue mission."

For a moment there was blessed silence. Then everyone started speaking at once. This was not how you maintained discipline. "Enough!" Jeff cried, gratified when they all stopped and looked at him. "The joint chiefs determined that there is insufficient evidence to warrant a rescue mission. Based on the amount of time it took for the feed to reach us, they believe the prisoners are most likely dead. Risking other lives would be pointless."

There, he said it all with a straight face, exactly as Captain Devine had told him. She read it off the feed herself, and wouldn't meet his eyes when she spoke. Jeff didn't blame her one bit.

"With all due respect sir, that's bullshit." Hank again.

"What do you want me to do, Major? Commandeer the Mercury? Take on the entire Confederation by myself?" Jeff curled his fingers into fists, his blood thrumming in his ears.

Hank left his little circle to get up in Jeff's face. "If you had to, yes!  You can't seriously be okay with leaving him there!"

"Do not tell me how I feel, Major! You have no fucking idea!" Jeff could feel his fist rise, almost of its own volition.

"Then do something! Anything is better than sitting here with our thumbs up our asses!"

His pulse pounded against his forehead. Hank had a lot of fucking nerve. He was sitting pretty, happy with his little Harmony lover when Jeff had to back to work and pretend, pretend it wasn't Katie all over again. He'd put duty before everything and Jeff had lost it all again.

"Commander!" Ian had gotten between them. He had his hand around Jeff's wrist and shook it slightly. He turned to Hank and said softly. "Get back and calm down." Then he turned his gaze back on Jeff. "I apologize for my sub's behavior. But if you want to hit someone, let me arrange it with someone who wants to be hit."

Only then did Ian let go and move back.

Jeff stared at those dark eyes, aware the silence in the room had changed. "Back to your stations," he ordered, gratified when they all left, except for Ian and Hank.

Hank had his arms folded and refused to meet Jeff's eyes. Well, he'd better conduct his business with Hank's master then. "All right," he said. "Arrange it."

He didn't know who was more surprised, Ian or himself.

***

Ian decided not to take Morgan to one of the taverns that he sometimes went with Henry. This he wanted to keep separate from that life. Ian had experimented with his sadistic side in his youth, but found it not always to his tastes. That didn't mean he didn't know exactly where to go.

The Open Hand was a well-known establishment at in the pinnacle of a tower in the Royal District. Morgan's status among Harmony would ensure them entry, even if Ian acted as his guide, sitting the commander down with the Master of the house as they hammered out a brief contract for the evening.

Unlike Henry, Morgan had never received any training in contract negotiation. Ian sat at his side and interrupted only when it seemed the other man floundered. Morgan had gone very still when he got to the bloodletting section.

"No knives," he said, crossing that out with his stylus.

Dom Feran hmmed under his breath. "I think Caden would suit you, then. He's free for the night."

"I don't think it will take that long." Jeff said.

Ian jostled him gently with his elbow. "As long as you don't put him out of commission for the rest of the evening."

As Jeff's face went pale, Ian wondered if he had done the right thing by bringing Jeff here. Clearly Morgan was grieving for his sub, but he needed some sort of physical release before he went mad or took it out on someone unprepared for it.

"I won't."

"I'll take you to one of the back rooms," Feran offered.

Ian gave Morgan an encouraging nod before going back to the couch where he'd left Henry, kneeling and waiting for him. Feran employed well-trained red-bands. He really shouldn't worry about Jeff Morgan.

"You really think this is what he needs?" Henry asked as Ian slid into the couch. He leaned his head so Ian could run his fingers through his hair.

"I don't know," Ian admitted. "What he really needs is Sub Jensen. And none of us can give him that."

Henry's eyes lowered, something he did when he became thoughtful. Harmony forbid Ian ever mistake it for the proper respect showed one's dom. He couldn't help a smile, slowing carding his fingers through Henry's soft but unruly hair.

"I would have let him hit me, you know."

Despite his verbal abrasiveness, few really knew how insightful his Henry could be. But that was Ian's job to know. They'd learned much about each other these months together. Ian needed Henry by his side. Neither of them could have contributed to the rebuilding of Pasdar alone. He'd have to cherish each of these moments together, to savor when Henry left when his contract was up.

"That's for me to decide," Ian said. "You shouldn't have instigated it."

Henry shook his head, dislodging Ian's fingers for just a moment. He tilted his head up, eyes flashing blue in the light coming from the sconce above them. "Are you going to punish me for that?"

"I'm not sure. I think you might like it too much." Ian had never really had to give out true punishment, the kind that provided correction to a sub that misbehaved. And since he liked Hank's outspoken nature, he didn't want to curtail that behavior. Then again, there was decorum to uphold.

Henry moved so he knelt between Ian's spread legs, wrapping his arms around his master's waist. Ian didn't expect Hank to finally say, "I'm fucking wrecked about Ackles. He doesn't deserve this."

Ian cupped Henry's face between his hands, rubbing his stubbled cheeks gently. All of Harmony had seen the terrible footage. It was the one time the Queen probably doubted her decision to connect the UP feeds to the tele. "No," Ian said. "No he doesn't."

And neither did Jeff Morgan.

***

As soon as the door closed behind the tavern's owner, Jeff second-guessed himself. What the hell was he doing here, about to scene with another sub who wasn't Jensen? He paced the length of the small room, his steps faster with each pass. The room was a well- stocked playroom. There was a padded bench in the center, about waist high, along with a chair, a set of stocks, and a tall wooden cross in the corner. Each of the walls held a series of items, a combination of toys and weapons. Jeff kept his eyes from the wall with the blades.

When the door opened again, he paused, swallowing the bile in his throat as Jeff prepared to meet this sub, Caden, for the first time. The man walked in, and whatever Jeff had been expected - maybe someone small and wirey, like Misha had been - Caden certainly didn't meet those expectations. He was tall and broad, with a finely muscled chest and abs. Beneath the short kilt he wore his thighs were tight and powerful.

Caden looked up from under dark curls. His eyes were an electric blue, startling to see from across the room, but for some reason, the sight comforted Jeff. He could never mistake them for Jensen's pure green. The red collar around the sub's throat sealed it all - he was here for temporary use.

"I've accepted your contract, Master." Caden smiled, revealing a perfect set of white teeth. "I only wanted to ask if you wish me to fight back." He gave a little shrug. "Different masters like different things."

Jeff nodded. "No. I don't want you to fight me. I want you to just take it."

If he hadn't been looking for it, Jeff would have missed the pulse leap in Caden's throat. His breath speeded up and the sub looked downright excited at the prospect.

"As you wish, Master."

"Before we start…" there was one thing Jeff had to ask. Despite everything churning in his belly, he knew he could not live with himself if he thought Caden didn't want this. "How will you…safeword if you need to?" He hadn't needed to worry about that before.

Caden winked and pointed to his collar. "The collar will glow if I wish the session to end. If you do not stop immediately, an alarm goes off for the bar master."

"Good." That safeguard made Jeff relax. He wouldn't have to worry about pulling his punches. If it was too much, he'd know immediately. "Take that damn thing off."

Caden undid the laces holding his kilt around his waist and let the fabric fall around his bare feet. He stepped out of it, leaving himself completely bare. Something about this strong man, nude but for his collar, made Jeff want to hurt him.

Jeff swung almost before he realized it. Today it seemed like his fist had a mind of its own. It crashed against Caden's face, sending the sub recoiling in response. Instead of backing away, he turned back and offered his unbruised cheek.

Jeff's left hook was just as brutal as his right. Caden was slower to come up, and blood trickled out of one nostril. The sub wiped it away and met Jeff's gaze with a challenging one of his own.

Good. The last thing he wanted was someone who simpered and cried. Jeff felt the anger burn in his gut and let the dark curtain cover his vision. He knew how to fight, had been trained in multiple forms of hand-to-hand combat. But this wasn't about skill. This was just punching and slapping, and throwing Caden around until he had the sub bent over the bench in the middle of the room.

Jeff grabbed one of the implements off the wall. He curled his fingers around the slim switch, bringing the wood down hard on that perfectly smooth ass. He wanted it marked, as bruised and bloody as Caden's face. Jeff held Caden's wrists together in one hand, heaving the rod with the other.

This held none of the trappings of any of his scenes with Jensen. There were no restraints to make it easier for the sub, no carefully orchestrated words. This was just violence for violence's sake. Jeff dropped the switch, tossing it away with a frustrated gesture. He pushed Caden off of the bench and onto the floor.

Caden knelt with his shoulders slumped and head down. His cock strained against his thigh, hard and leaking fluid all over the place.

"That for me?" Jeff growled. He all but choked on the word 'boy' that threatened to come out. No, that was a pet name for someone else, another time, something precious now lost to him.

Caden blinked up at him out of two swollen eyes. "For the pain."

Jeff slipped his leg between Caden's knees, so the tip of his boot rubbed up against his bare cock. "Take it. If you want to come, take it."

The sub leaned forward, bracing himself in the humiliating position of having to hump Jeff's foot for his release. He moaned, his hips snapping forward with surprising force. With a sharp cry, Caden came, erupting over the floor.

Jeff ran a hand through the sub's hair. "You all right?"

Caden nodded. He nuzzled against Jeff's thigh. "What can I do for you?"

Jeff had to step away. "Nothing." He wasn't even hard. This hadn't been about that. No, it had been about something entirely different.

***

Jeff held it together until he got back to his quarters on the Mercury. It wasn't hard. He'd gone months with the same expression on his face, using the shield of the soldier to cover everything churning inside him.

But after beating on Caden it had all come to the surface. Jeff couldn't pretend any longer. In some odd way he felt better. It didn't make sense, since beating Caden proved Harmony had lost its magic for him. If it had any at all on its own, and not Jensen's unique charisma.

Jeff turned on the comm recorder, leaving the video off and capturing only sound. He pulled off his sweat soaked uniform, folding it carefully before letting it fall into the laundry hamper.

"Jensen," he said. "This is the last message I'll ever send you."

He sat on the bed in nothing but his regulation boxers. Jeff leaned forward, clasping his hands between his knees. "They think you're dead. Or as good as dead."

"What do I think? Doesn't matter. Result is the same. You fucking left me." Jeff closed his eyes.

I hate you. I hate you because you made me love you and then you fucking left me.

But all he said was. "Goodbye, Jensen."

Jeff turned off the comm.


	3. Part 3

Part 3

Jensen knew when they dragged him back to Isaacs's lab that it wouldn't be good. The number of former scuts in the cells had dwindled down to four. He supposed it would be three now.

They'd placed him in those same high tech restraints that completely encased his hands and feet, that could be positioned to hold Jensen in any position Isaacs liked. Much more convenient than having to change from a bench, to a cross, to a surgical table. A flip of a switch and Jensen was prone or spread however the good doctor liked. Right now they had him spreadeagled, hovering a few feet off the floor, at just the perfect height for Isaacs to examine him.

Isaacs walked into the lab, followed by his two favorite assistants - Ryan and the lizard slave. He pulled on a pair of tight gloves as he entered, the expression on his face gleeful.

Jensen tried counting his heartbeats in a frantic attempt to keep his center. If he were about to die, he'd do it with dignity. It was the only control he had left.

"I've finally figured out what to do with you, Jensen is it?" Isaacs pulled a surgical cart from the corner and began organizing the tools.

"Doesn't matter, does it?" Ryan said with her usual smirk.

Jensen never had gotten the chance to punch her. He regretted that. But the doctor's words made Jensen think he wasn't going to die right now, so he might have the chance eventually. He attempted to flex his fingers encased in the restraints, to no avail. They didn't even give him the luxury of holding on to something. His fingers felt numb, just like the rest of his hands and his feet.

"What are you going to do to me?" Jensen rasped. Part of him didn't want to know. But if he knew, he could prepare, somehow. His heart started to race and he couldn't keep up to keep counting the beats. Would he be made into a creature, like lizard slave? Or would his limbs be modified like some of the other slaves he'd seen around the complex.

Isaacs picked up a wicked looking hypoderm from the tray before moving to Jensen's side. He stood ridiculously close, brushing against Jensen's bare chest. Fingers probed at Jensen's temple. "You know you have lovely eyes."

Oh stars. Jensen swallowed and tried not to blink. He couldn't help the trembling that spread throughout his entire body. He opened his mouth, wanting to throw out some witty rejoinder. Instead he said, "Please. No."

Isaacs let out a little sigh. "Really? Must I gag you?"

"Don't. We want to hear him scream," Ryan said.

Jensen wouldn't look in her direction, although staring up at Isaacs's cold blue eyes didn't help much either. Isaacs looked amused, as if the prospect of pain and blindness for Jensen was something to laugh at. Jensen tugged on his restraints, trying to move, doing anything he could to resist this.

"I think he's too well trained to scream. Besides." Isaacs injected the hypoderm in Jensen's neck as he spoke. "If he wiggles too much I'm liable to damage something more precious."

Jensen cried out as the needle pricked his neck. That was the last sound he made. The drug was some sort of paralytic, freezing the muscles of his limbs. His breath came faster and Jensen feared it would act on his lungs and he'd suffocate, staring up at that cold face.

"As I was saying. You have lovely eyes," Isaacs went back to his tray, leaving Jensen bereft of any contact. "I wouldn't want to destroy them. However, you see too much."

He turned back with another device and attached it to the skin on Jensen's temple. At first it didn't feel like anything at all, but then it began to burn. "I've made note of that. You watch and analyze when you think we're not looking." He tsked. "Might be a good trait for a soldier, even a valued slave. But you're neither of those things. You're our prisoner. And soon you'll be our whore."

He couldn't scream. Jensen felt it bubble up in his throat, his strangled voice captured by the paralytic and stuffed down where no one could hear it. Right now he couldn't even blink. His eyes filled, and tears streamed down his cheeks.

The burning became more intense before it turned into sharp, piercing pain. Isaacs was all but humming as he worked, more instruments gathered up and inserted. But Jensen couldn't focus on that, couldn't focus on anything but the agony going on inside his head. Isaacs had stopped him from moving, but didn't include an analgesic in his drug cocktail.

That fucking son of a bitch. Jensen tried to rage, to hold on to anger when he couldn't even scream. He choked, his body rebelling against the pain somehow.

"None of that. Nearly done."

Everything went dark. And Jensen was still awake.

***

Jensen's mistake was in trying to crawl away.

He had little time to recover from his surgery. Newly blinded, they'd dragged him out of the lab. Jensen kept blinking, kept trying to see, but there was nothing.

"Handy trick," lizard boy said in his lisping voice. "Sever your nerves, but your eyes are just as pretty as ever."

Jensen thought they'd take him back to his cell, make him flounder in his own filth. But no, they'd taken him to the lounge. It was always filled, though Jensen never knew who the clients were. He guessed they were members of this project Parvati, who took out their frustrations on the scut slaves. Though sometimes he thought otherwise. There always seemed to be new people to serve.

Now in the dark, it was a thousand times worse. Jensen couldn't see who touched him. He couldn't gauge his responses on what the person seemed to want. Strong hands would grasp his hips right before shoving a cock inside him, hard and stretching him widely. He'd try to grasp for some sort of purchase, some way to brace himself against the hard pounding.

Jensen never noticed the fabric here before, except that it scraped up his knees and elbows. Now, with his cheek pressed against it, it was all he could focus on, the rough burn of it against his skin, the sour smell of urine and semen that filled his nostrils. That didn't last long until someone (or maybe more than one?) grasped his hair and pulled him up, gagging him with another dick.

He didn't know how long it went on for, being passed from hand to hand, not knowing what was next - being thrown over the end of a couch, or being forced to straddle someone's lap.

They'd let him drop to the floor and that was when Jensen tried to crawl away. He moved on instinct, just wanting it all to stop. Just fucking stop. But no, it had to get worse.

The voices protested and then they laughed. "I'll keep him in place," someone said, but before Jensen could parse that he felt the piercing agony in his right hand as something sharp was shoved through his palm and into the hard floor below. He screamed as the same thing happened to his left hand.

Strong hands grabbed his ankles and Jensen kicked out, knowing what was coming.

Even with knowing he could be prepared for the stakes through his feet. He thought they were knives, the way the blade sliced so easily into his skin. When he tried to move Jensen could feel his body tear on the inside. Slick hands prodded at his anus and Jensen whimpered, unable to move at all, just like he'd been imprisoned in Isaac's lab. Even if he screamed, they'd just laugh. He could do nothing but submit.

His dick curved hot and hard against his thigh. Jensen burned with the shame of it, his flesh overheated.

I'm sorry, he thought, over and over, biting his lips to keep from saying the words out loud. But he didn't know who he was apologizing to.

***

Adrianne followed on Jared's heels as they entered the house. They'd come this morning to inspect the old Ackles ranch. The property now belonged to Jared, but as he had no idea on how to actually run it, Jared had been sure to keep all the old staff hired on. The house, however, had been used by the Corps management as a main office. Jared had requested they clear it out when they vacated the property.

So it was into an empty room they walked into, their footsteps echoing on the hardwood floors. Light filtered in from the uncovered windows, sending shafts of sunlight on the opposite wall. Jared walked across the room to the staircase, rubbing at the railing thoughtfully.

"You grew up here?"

"Till I was 15," he said, sounding so very far away even though he stood only a few feet from her.

She ached for him. Adrianne knew he missed Jensen terribly, and this entire situation didn't make his grief any easier. 

"Course I don't even recognize it," Jared shook his head. "Without my dad's recliner. My mom's quilts over the back of the couch. Meggie's toys on the floor. I was always chasing after Jen…" He trailed off.

Adrianne finally moved to his side. She touched his arm, feeling the muscles tense under her fingers. "Jared, this is your chance to make it a home again. Make it our home."

He shook his head. "Don't want to do it alone."

"Well, I do think I can help." She tried to smile. Adrianne hadn't brought up the wedding, not since they'd learned about Jensen's capture. Jared had so wanted his brother to be there. She kept it wrapped in her heart, because even without that ceremony Jared belonged to her. "If you let me."

Jared nodded. He led her up the stairs, pointing out the four bedrooms. "That was Jen's room. Right next to mine…"

"Jared," she said. "You can't think of the past anymore. Which one is going to be our room?"

He looked like he wanted to argue with her. Jared got all red in the face, the way it did right before he exploded in anger. But he didn't shout or scream. For just a moment Jared closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "We should take the master suite," he said, finally, though his voice was raw.

"Show me," she took his arm. Adrianne vowed to make this place a home, with their own stamp on the house. Jared should have only good memories here.

***

Jensen started to lose track of time. He slept whenever they left him alone, curled into a ball in his cell after being force-fed something disgusting. When he couldn't sleep he'd compose letters to Jeff in his head, imagining how Jeff would respond. Sometimes Jensen could swear he could even see Jeff, sitting there with him in his cell, even though he couldn't see anything else.

He'd pretend he was back on Harmony, sometimes. Jensen would lean against the bars, feel the metal press against his skin and imagine Jeff was on his way. He just had to wait a little bit longer. Just hold on.

Every moment that passed made holding on that much harder. Especially when Isaacs started to whore him out to different clients.

"Lovely, isn't he? Can't see a thing, so he won't see you coming. The boys at the lounge found a handy way to keep him in place. I highly recommend it."

Jensen flexed his hands, which never stopped aching. His clients liked him pinned down to the floor like a science experiment. His masters just stopped healing the wounds. Maybe he'd die of infection before they broke him completely. He could always hope.

Today (tonight? This afternoon? Jensen never knew) he had been led to one of the private rooms his more prestigious clients used. He only guessed about that, listening to their conversations with Isaacs or Ryan. Even though he couldn't see, Jensen hadn't stopped observing. He just needed to use different senses to do it.

Jensen crawled the length of the room, carefully putting out one hand to feel his way before proceeding. The carpet was soft and lush, more for the john's comfort than his. His fingers were just starting to go numb and Jensen feared he'd lose all feeling before they were finished with him. He followed the wall around the room, noting the location of the en suite as well as a large heavy box that he couldn't open. Jensen guessed they kept the toys and knifes to be used on him. Of course it was locked. He tried to open it every time.

He'd made his way to the center, edging the bed with the silky fabric all around the edges. A giggle rose up in his throat. As if they ever fucked him on the bed!

The door slid open with a soft whooshing sound. Jensen stilled. He bowed his head, braced by his elbows and knees. His hands were no longer reliable.

"This is the great scut I was supposed to fear?" The voice sent shivers down Jensen's spine. The tone was deep, it rolled with notes of arrogance and anger.

"As you can see, sir, he's been completely broken to our will." Isaacs. That bastard.

Jensen felt the footsteps on the carpet vibrate just before his hair was grabbed and his face forced up. "Completely helpless, as you can see."

Tears welled up in his useless eyes. Isaacs had pulled so hard he must have taken out a chunk of hair. Jensen got a whiff of the lab, the stench of sterile cleaner and metal tools. The smell made his stomach roil and he swallowed hard to keep from throwing up.

"Yes, yes, Isaacs, you do good work." That arrogant voice sounded downright bored now. That was always dangerous. "I'll call you when I need clean up."

Jensen trembled. Was this it? The client he wouldn't survive?

"Of course, sir." Isaacs let Jensen go, not caring that Jensen nearly hit his forehead on the floor. Strange that the doctor gave in so easily. He normally liked to go on about his conquests to an eager audience.

His senses on alert, Jensen heard the door slide open and closed again. Isaacs leaving. He tried to listen for the footfalls of his new client, but the damn comfortable carpet made it hard. Instead he tried to feel the carpet, crouching close to the floor to catch the movement.

There was a tiny click, a sound Jensen knew from somewhere.

"Mala, hold all my calls. I'll comm you when you can let them through again."

"Yes, sir." The answering voice was tinny, a surefire sign it came from the other end of a comm unit.

A fucking comm unit. Jensen had never been left alone with any client who kept a comm with him. In fact, he would have bet anything that Isaacs wouldn't allow it. Either they thought Jensen too broken to resist, or this client was someone so important he could dictate his own rules.

Jensen fought to keep listening, to find out where that comm ended up. He heard the shuffling sound of clothing being removed, the clatter of something, perhaps he had put it down on a surface. Jensen hadn't gotten to explore the bed entirely, so he could only guess there was a table for the client to rest his possessions on. Didn't want to get them dirty, did they?

He needed to get his hands on that comm unit, somehow. Jensen couldn't fuck this up; it might be his one and only chance to get out of here.

"Please don't hurt me," he whimpered, cringing as he felt the footfalls come closer. Jensen needed to look broken. He wasn't sure how he looked, hell he wasn't even sure he actually wasn't broken.

The man laughed, a wheezing sound. He took hold of Jensen by his collar and forced his face up. Jensen could smell the man's breath, nearly taste the curry he must have had for lunch. "Isaacs did damn good with you. Wonder if you're as good as the last scut."

Who had been the last scut? Did they get to see this asshole's face right before they died? If Isaacs meant for him to be the coup de grace, the sole purpose for Jensen's breaking, then this bastard must be one sick fuck. After all Jensen had been through, this guy must mean to shred him limb from limb.

Not if Jensen got to him first.

The client threw Jensen back to the floor, so hard Jensen's nose throbbed as it made contact. He couldn't move his hands in time to protect himself. Jensen flexed his fingers. He needed strength right now, not necessarily dexterity.

A smack on his ass had Jensen jumping in startlement. He hated how quickly he could lose track of his surroundings. He needed to listen.

"Spread those legs. Now!" The man chuckled. "They told me you get hard no matter who's fucking you."

"Yes, sir," Jensen whispered. He could do this. He'd been trained to do this.

Jensen spread his legs, ass in the air as he braced himself on his elbows, saving his wrists, he hoped, for later. He held his breath as the man mounted him with nothing more than a grunt and a fierce grip around Jensen's hips. His cock breached Jensen's hole, feeling just as big and thick as the hundreds of cocks that had raped him. Jensen would never get used to it, but at this point, he could take his focus away from the pain.

All he had to do was wait for the right moment. Jensen listened with his body, felt when the client's rhythm started to speed up. The bastard was close. Jensen had to act now, as the guy came so he was too befuddled to fight back.

He felt the grip loosen on his waist, just a touch, but that was enough. Jensen slammed his head back with all the force he could muster, gratified when it made contact with a harsh crack.

"What the…"

Jensen was glad the client spoke, it made it easier to find him in his blindness. He turned and pounced before the other man recovered. This was when he needed his hands to work. With a quick motion, Jensen grabbed the man's head and twisted hard. He heard the snap and let go, crawling off of the dead body.

Had to get the comm now before they came after him. Jensen couldn't walk or run, but he crawled on his knees as fast as he could, following the lines of the bed. "Come on, come on," he murmured. It had to be here somewhere. His tortured hands came into the contact with fabric. He found sleeves - a jacket - and then pockets. Something fell when he fiddled with it. Jensen scrambled on the floor, breath coming faster as he made wide careful motions.

His arm came in contact with something cold and hard. Jensen grasped the comm and felt it with his fingertips. Luckily the button for voice controls was tactile, made that way for just this purpose, someone fiddling around in the dark.

"Make call," he ordered as the comm chirped on. "UP frequently Alpha 34 Red 78363. Broadcast. This is Captain Jensen Ackles, serial number KAZ2Y5. Can anyone read me?"

It was a long shot, hoping someone was in range. If they sent rescue ships, someone might be monitoring the frequencies. Jensen held his breath. If he didn't get a response soon he'd have to try to send a beacon and hope it wasn't intercepted.

The comm crackled to life. "Ackles? Holy hell, is that you?"

Kane! Of all people! Jensen let out a little laugh. "Yes, yes it's me. I don't have much time…"

"Where are you, son?"

"Indra," he rasped out. "If you can get into orbit, you can activate the tracer chemical in my tattoos…" If the scars crisscrossing his skin hadn't canceled that out. If Kane could get his precious, illegal, ship into the heart of the Confed. Too many Ifs.

"Indra. You don't do things halfway, do you?"

Jensen grinned, touching the comm to his lips. It felt real. "Hurry."

"I'll do my best."

He pushed the comm unit under the bed, hoping it would take them a while to notice it. Of course, he couldn't tell if he actually smoothed the covers, or only made them worse. Jensen crawled to the en suite bathroom, going the wrong direction at first so he had to retrace his steps along the wall. He shut the door behind him, locked it and curled up into a ball next to the toilet. It wouldn't take them long to find him, but Jensen wasn't planning on making it easy on anyone.

There were screams and the sounds of heavy boots marching before the hands came to claim him. Jensen had to cover his face as the blows rained down, Isaacs shouting, "You ignorant boy, do you know what you've done? How dare you!"

"Guess he wasn't as broken as you thought," Ryan's voice broke into the diatribe.

"You shut your mouth."

"You can't kill him. They'll want a trial. Need to broadcast it through the Confederation."

"Fuck you," Isaacs snapped, but the blows stopped, leaving Jensen shivering and aching. Something had ruptured inside, he didn't feel quite right. It was hard to catch his breath, his limbs were sluggish and seemed like they almost didn't belong to him. "Put him in his cage."

When someone moved to grab him, the motion jostling every nerve and causing pain to flare throughout his body, that's when Jensen just gave in. He let the quiet claim him and passed out.

***

Kane held his breath as the lift doors opened. The plan was a good one, far better than most of their hare-brained schemes and it would work. He and Steve were dressed like the janitorial staff, leading what appeared to be a cleaning bot. Nobody paid any attention to the cleaning crew.

The guards on the other side didn't even nod as Kane and Steve walked past them. Before the doors closed with the guards behind them one said to the other, "They're gonna have one hell of a mess to clean up. . ."

"Damn it," Steve muttered.

"Ignore them. Plug in the bot." Kane moved down the dark corridor of cells, bending to check each one. They hadn't come this far just to find Jensen dead.

Steve opened up a panel on the wall and the bot squealed as it connected to the port. It would scramble the cameras and security systems, hopefully long enough for them to get Jensen out and into the transport they had waiting in the streets. Daneel was holding her own at the spaceport, relying on a friend of a friend to keep them out of trouble and the ship ready to take off.

Kane had to double check to make sure the figure in the eighth cell was still breathing. Only then did he notice it was Jensen on the other side of those bars. "Steve, we ready?"

"Give me ten seconds." The other man touched something on the face of the bot. "Now."

"Open up cell number eight." He crouched down and slithered inside as soon as the bars went down. Damn, how long had they kept Jensen in here like this?

Kane pulled Jensen out, wincing at the streak of red left behind on the concrete floor. They needed to get his injuries assessed ASAP, but they needed to get out of the capital complex even sooner. Otherwise all three of them would end up dead.

"Here." Steve injected a hypoderm in the side of Jensen's neck. It was the standard cocktail from the first aid kit – anti-infectives, pain killer, and whatever the hell else they made to make sure you didn't bleed out in the field. "Fuck, they did a number on him."

"You surprised? Son of a bitch killed the god damn emperor. He's only still breathing cause they need that public trial."

"Well, they ain't gonna get it. Come on, help me with him."

Jensen was a dead weight in their arms as they placed him on the cart attached to the bot. Steve spread a tarp over him and Kane carefully laid the cleaning supplies over it. They needed to rely on people not looking too closely at them.

Kane sure as hell hoped the plan would work.

***

Later Jensen would only remember Steve's whispered voice and the clatter of metal against metal. He couldn't tell when they'd left the complex, or how Kane had gotten them all out. One moment he was there, shoved into his dirty cell, and the next, he'd woken up in a bed, the soft beeping of medical equipment keeping time next to his head.

His eyes fluttered open, but darkness still blanketed his vision. Jensen licked his lips, trying to feel the rest of his body.

"Don't try to get up," a voice said. "Are you thirsty? I have ice chips."

No, it couldn't be. He had to be dreaming. Maybe Jensen was still trapped in that cell and now caught in some sort of hallucination. "Dani?" he croaked out. He tried to sit up, to get away, because he had to be going insane and the guards would come get him any moment now.

"Shhh."

Something cool touched his mouth. In surprise, Jensen parted his lips and slurped at the ice greedily. It soothed his sore throat. "Where am I?"

"We're still on Kane's ship. Coming up on Meridian soon. Once there we'll transfer you to a UP ship I've been in contact with. They should have the medical facilities the Dina doesn't."

Her voice brought him back in time. Was it almost seven years ago now? Jensen's chest ached, but he couldn't move to rub it out. "Dani, what are you doing here?"

She let out a little sigh. "How do you think they were able to get to you? I've got contacts. People Kane only dreams of knowing."

Dani had done well for herself, then. Good. Jensen had worried, sometimes, that he wasn't doing her a favor by saving her life and dragging her away from the Confed.

"Thank you," he said. "You didn't have to…"

"Oh stuff it, Jensen." He recognized that note of anger and it almost made him smile. "Of course I had to."

Her hand touched his arm, the sensation so surprising since everything felt so numb. They must have pumped him with painkillers. Jensen almost floated in the bed.

"I named him Jason," she said, so soft he almost didn't hear her.

"Who?" he started to ask, then fell silent. "You, you…"

"I wasn't lying back then. He is ours, somehow. He's got your eyes and my hair." She swallowed, so loud Jensen could hear. "So I couldn't just let you die. Even if I am still pissed at you."

Jensen closed it eyes. It didn't help to keep straining, to try to see her. He'd never see Dani again. "I'm sorry."

"Just live, Jensen, just live."

His own words from seven years ago, spit back at him. Jensen smiled. Yeah, that was his Dani.


	4. Part 4

Part 4

Jared shouldn't have had to hear the news on the god damn news feed, not again. He and Adrianne cuddled on the new couch she had bought for the living room. With her decorating it hardly resembled the home he'd grown up in. Everything from the color of the walls to the layout of each room was so different that Jared could forget the past and look toward the future.

They had the news feed running on the holo unit, though Jared had long given up hope of hearing anything about his brother. Until tonight.

The normal entertainment reel had been broken into with an emergency broadcast. The anchor, a tiny man Jared didn't recognize, stared into the camera, staring out at his audience with pale cheeks and mussed hair.

"We interrupt this program with breaking news. It's been learned that the Emperor of the Confederation has been assassinated. Not only that, but the assassin was none other than the UP's own Captain Jensen Ackles, who has been a prisoner of war for the past eight months and believed to be dead. The video you are about to see was lifted straight from the Confed's own news system."

"What the hell?" Jared whispered. The vid from the Confed didn't answer any of his questions, reporting only that the reported assassin – Jensen – had escaped custody.

Almost in response to his words, his personal comm beeped, signaling an incoming call. Jared switched it over to the main holo unit. Adrianne gripped his arm, almost too tightly when General Ferris appeared.

Ferris looked terrible. If Jared didn't know any better he'd think she'd been crying right before she called.

"Jared, we didn't know," she blurted. "I just heard it on the news feed myself."

He stood, clenching his fists. "What happened to your inside information? Don't you have people whose job it is to find this stuff out before the media?"

"Those people were all recalled when the Confed threatened to kill all scuts. We've been operating blind for months, Jared." She shook her head. "I don't know where he is now, but we've got every ship out on the border looking."

"And you better bring him home, General."

***

"He's going to need surgery. The injuries to his hands and feet are extensive and my scans indicate nerve damage. This requires more than just a skin sealer, Dr. Cox."

"Don't tell me you don't think we can treat him here?"

"Stabilize, sure, but all due respect, Doc, you're not a neurosurgeon."

Jensen heard the voices long before the words started making any sense. He didn't recognize the speakers voices and his heart pounded in fear. For a moment he thought he was back on Indra, trapped in the complex and just waiting for his next client. He'd never escaped at all, it had all been a horrible dream.

"Captain Ackles, can you hear me?" Gentle hands touched his face. Jensen heard the flick of some instrument, but couldn't tell if it were a light or a scanner without his sight.

"Hard not to," he croaked, surprised as how raw his voice sounded. Then again, he'd used it so rarely.

"I'm Lieutenant Chapel. You're on the UPS Valentine, in the infirmary. This is Doctor Cox." Chapel had a light soothing voice, as if she was accustomed to having to calm down patients.

"We'll be stabilizing you for a return to the nearest Starbase with a qualified surgeon," Cox spoke quickly, almost too quickly.

"No," Jensen said. "I want to go home."

"The longer we wait, the more possibility of damage," Cox said. He sounded as if he were moving away, as if it were already a done deal.

"Don't give a fuck," Jensen said. He tried to push himself up. That numbness that was so comforting before now only frightened him. "Get me home! I want to go home!" The hand on his chest only had him fighting harder. "Stop touching me!" Why wouldn't they stop hurting him?

He didn't even feel the prick when they sedated him.

Jensen drifted in and out of consciousness for the entire trip. He listened to the whispers, but hovered somewhere in between. Sometimes he dreamt, finding himself safe in Jeff's arms in Harmony, twined together on their huge bed. More often the dreams twisted into dark twins of what happened on Indra. Jeff would bind Jensen with gentle kisses on his wrists before the cuffs, and then would turn into Isaacs, with the cold blue eyes and the scalpel.

Whenever he woke screaming they'd sedate him again. Jensen didn't know how long it was until he opened his eyes, finally free of the drugs. He took stock of his body, no longer numb. Everything ached. When he tried to lift his hands he realized they were swathed in bandages.

"It's not a good idea to touch them right now, sir," a soft voice interrupted his explorations.

Jensen didn't know he wasn't alone and nearly tumbled right out of the bed. "Who the hell are you?"

He felt the presence get closer, somehow. Jensen couldn't help the shivering. Damn it. He hated feeling like this.

"I'm Cadet Gyllenhaal, sir. Jake Gyllenhaal. I believe you know my sister?"

The words soothed him, and Jensen let himself drop back onto the bed. "Where am I?"

"Private hospital room on the Atlantic Base, on Earth. Can I get you something? Maybe some water?"

Jensen couldn't remember the last time he ate or drank. He hated to think what they had to do to get him here without him knowing. Fuck, it was almost as bad as being trapped in the Confed, unable to fend for himself.

"Water," Jensen said. He listened as Jake moved around the room, trying to guess the dimensions. That would be impossible until he got the chance to crawl around it, feel it for himself. But if he was home…"What about my eyes?" he said.

A weight settled on the bed. "I'm gonna hold the cup for you," the cadet said, gently pressing a straw against Jensen's lips. "Do you want me to call the doctor or should I just tell you what the chart says?"

Jensen sucked in sips of cool water. He closed his eyes. How long had it been since he had such a simple pleasure? "Just tell me," he said as he pulled back.

Jake cleared his throat. "You've had surgery on your palms and feet, to repair the nerve damage. They estimated you'd eventually get 80% of the range of motion back."

"My eyes."

"Nothing is apparently wrong with your eyes," Jack said, his voice timid and tentative. "But the nerves connecting them to the visual centers of your brain have been cut. They've been arguing about whether they can fix that or not."

Jensen reached up to rub his forehead, but the bandages got in the way. "Why these, why not just use a skin sealer?" He tried to open and close his hands, but the sudden pain had him gasping.

"Not sure. Might have something to do with how long it took to get you here. You sure you don't want me to call the doctor?"

"Damn sure," Jensen growled. "How long…Jake, what's the date?"

Jake told him. Jensen bit in lip. He'd been Isaacs's prisoner for eight months. It had felt like so much longer. "I need to…Stars," he didn't even know where to begin. "Jared…I need to comm my brother, he doesn't know. Fuck, he must think…Can you get me a unit?" Hell, Jake would probably have to operate it for him.

"Anything you want, Major. They've assigned me to you."

"Wait a minute…It's Captain…"

Jake let out a little laugh. "I think you more than deserve the promotion. I can have General Ferris come in to confirm it for you."

Jensen snuggled back against the pillows. "I just need a comm." Jeff had promised to keep sending him messages. Would he have continued to do so for the year they'd been apart? He'd have to wait and see, if Jake didn't mind being his eyes and hands.

"Yes, sir."

***

Jeff had dirt under his fingernails. And on his shoes and on the knees of his uniform pants. There was mud caked around his comm unit and the sensor tablet he kept in his kit. He didn't even want to think about what must be inside his backpack.

He'd probably feel better if they had more to show for their work than the dirt. The people who lived underground here were extremely skittish. Whenever Jeff and his team came close, they simply seemed to melt away. He guessed they knew the intricacies of the maze of caverns down here in a way that would take Jeff's team months to learn. They'd already spent a month down here, out of contact with the Mercury except for whoever was chosen to go back to the surface to make a report.

Something in these damn rocks interfered with the comm signals. It made the entire job that much harder. Still, Jeff couldn't ignore the possibilities and had samples taken to be studied back on the ship. Otherwise, this planet was a bust. These people didn't want to talk, and right now Jeff needed to respect that. Jeff ordered everyone to pack it in and head back to the surface. They were going back to the ship.

"Sir, the Captain wants to speak with you the moment we dock," Brown, who was manning the shuttle, told him.

Jeff groaned. "Can't it wait till I shower at least?"

"She was pretty insistent, Commander."

"Well, she'll just have to deal with the mud then."

Jeff headed for the Captain's ready room, waving off his people as they disembarked from the shuttle. They were all tired, dirty and need some rest. He hoped whatever Devine wanted it wouldn't take too long; that shower was calling his name.

The doors opened for him before Jeff even hit the chime. That didn't bode well. He stepped inside, surprised to find the Captain not at her desk. She stared out the viewer that functioned as a virtual window to the planet below.

"Commander Morgan reporting as requested, sir."

She turned, her eyes puffy and red rimmed, which was so unlike Devine that Jeff nearly gasped. "At ease, Commander."

"Captain?"

"You just missed the Desert Moon, Morgan. They dropped off data packs from Earth. Damn 724 is mucking with our communications worse than usual out here." Devine shook her head.

Nothing about this sounded any good. "So what does any of that have to do with me?"

She picked up a remote on her desk. "It hit the news wave a month ago. Ackles is alive. Alive and back on Earth."

Her words had him staggering as if he had been shot. For a moment, Jeff couldn't make sense of them. "I thought the UP decided against a rescue mission."

She snorted. "Ackles all but rescued his damn self. And he managed to kill the emperor of the Confed in the process."

"What?" Jeff stared at her.

Devine shook her head. "I don't know how he did it. That hasn't been made public and I don't have the clearance. This is from the last press conference." She clicked on her remote and the holographic image appeared on her desk, in miniature.

Jeff hadn't seen such a clear holo in a while. The feed just didn't come in that well out here.

A young man stood in the center of a stage, surrounded by members of the media with tiny flashing cams. Jeff was surprised at first to note the lack of military presence, at least until he recognized the young man. It wasn't his face, but when he spoke, deep tones with a familiar accent, that sparked the recognition. Jared, Jensen's brother.

"My brother and I would like to thank all of you for your support. The comms and gifts have been much appreciated." He looked out into the crowd, but the words came slowly, as if from a memorized script. "My brother, Major Jensen Ackles, has served the UP since he was eighteen years old. Now that he's come to the end of his career, I ask that our privacy be respected. Neither Jensen nor I will answer any questions about his mission in the Confed. We ask that you look to your Senators and the Corps for your answers. Thank you."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Jeff shouted. Where was Jensen? What had happened to him? Just how the hell had he gotten himself out of the Confed?

Stars, Jensen was alive! Alive and home, while Jeff was out here on the ass end of the galaxy. Once again he was fucked over by doing his duty while someone he cared about was in trouble.

"I put the feeds on the ship network. It's as much as I know."

"Great." And he'd just missed the Desert Moon. They wouldn't be back around this part of the galaxy for two more months, when the Mercury was scheduled to head back to Earth for crew rotation and engine replacements.

Jeff was dirty and tired, and he just found out that the lover he thought he'd lost forever was still alive, but just out of his reach. He wanted to fall into his bed and not come up.

"Jeff," she said softly, surprising him by using his first name. "This is a good thing. We haven't lost him. You haven't lost him."

Damn her for seeing him so clearly. "I think you might be wrong about that, Captain." Jeff had said goodbye in his last message to Jensen. Who knew what the other man thought of that? Would he even want to hear from Jeff?

***

Jensen sat up in his hospital bed, propped up on the pillows he had Gyllenhaal fix for him. He'd had to ask the cadet to set up the comm and put the earpiece in Jensen's ear. But at least Jensen could use the voice controls on the comm instead of having to rely on Jake to push buttons for him.

"No outside calls, sir. General Beaver would like to debrief you first," Jake had told him in that same polite tone. Jensen kept listening for hints of Maggie in his voice. He wondered if they looked alike. He wouldn't know, not until they fixed his eyes. If they could fix his eyes.

"And when is that going to happen?"

"When you're well enough for visitors and not a moment before." The snap in Jake's voice that time had Jensen grinning. That was more like it. "You should be resting."

Jensen didn't want to close his eyes again. He'd tried to nap after coming awake to find himself slathered in bandages and connected to all sorts of monitoring devices. Jake had had to wake him from the nightmare, afraid Jensen would open up his wounds.

"I'm sitting here listening to my messages. How is this not resting?" Jensen tried to joke. He wasn't sure he convinced Jake of anything. Jensen didn't want to dream again, didn't want to see Isaac's face, that nasty grin he got whenever hurting Jensen. He didn't want to see Mike's death, repeated over and over in a blood red haze. No, Jensen didn't want to sleep.

"If your heart rate starts to go up, I'm pulling out the earpiece," Jake said.

"Fine." Jensen ignored him. "Engage audio. Retrieve messages, Ackles, Jensen R. code CNK 80Q3."

The computerized voice spoke in his ear. "You have 534 messages."

"Sort. Play all with sender Morgan, Jeffrey D."

At first Jeff's warm tones were a balm to his shattered psyche. Jensen just listened, sometimes not even hearing the words, just letting Jeff's voice sink into him. He could almost smell him, imagine him lying beside Jensen in his bed, his body so warm, the stubble of his cheeks rasping against Jensen's body.

Jensen wanted that comfort, wanted to sink into Jeff's arms. He wanted Jeff to take away the nightmares and the pain.

And then he got to Jeff's last message. Tears were streaming done his cheeks when Jared finally found him.

***

They wouldn't let him see Jensen. Jared paced the lobby of the military hospital on the Atlantic base. It had been almost a year since he'd spoken with his own brother, and they were keeping him behind locked doors until he could be 'debriefed' whatever the hell that meant. Jensen was home, fucking home, and Jared couldn't see for himself, couldn't touch him to make sure this was real.

"Jared," Adrianne stood in front of him, stopping his aimless pacing. "I've got Senator McKellen on the comm." She held out her earpiece.

Jared took it, meeting her wide-eyed gaze with his own. What the hell? "Senator?"

"Ah, hello Dr. Ackles. May I call you Jared by the way?"

If the senator could help Jared see Jensen, he could damn well call Jared whatever the hell he wanted. "Yes, sir."

"I hear that your brother has arrived safely on Earth."

"They won't let me see him," Jared said. He looked down at the grainy tile, starting to pace again, not even noticing anything else in the lobby.

"You've got a decision to make Jared. I can help you, if you like. But this is your one chance to stop the military from controlling your brother's destiny."

Jared knew if he let Jensen go now, the Corps would never let him be free. It would start with the debriefing, and then they'd plaster his face on the media feed as the killer of the Confed emperor. Jensen would never find peace.

"I'm prepared to do whatever it takes," Jared told McKellen.

"Good boy." He could hear the smile in McKellen's voice. "You are a doctor, aren't you? You can arrange for his care elsewhere, correct?

"Yes." Jared needed to see Jensen's charts, but he could do it. He had plenty of friends at the hospital who could help him out if he needed them.

"Good. I will call General Beaver. You go on up to room 768."

"Thank you, sir." Jared cut the connection and strode towards the lifts behind the receptionist desk, Adrianne following at his heels.

"Jared? What did he say?"

"We're getting Jensen the hell out of here." Jared punched the button on the wall. One of the military guards came over from the main desk.

"Sir, I believe you were told to wait until you received authorization. . ."

Jared turned and glared at the young man. "I got my authorization. You can call General Beaver himself."

Before the guard could answer, the doors slid open and Jared strode inside. Adrianne followed. He expected more of a protest, but the guard already had his comm open.  His eyes widened as he glanced at Jared just as the doors closed.

It was good to have friends in high places.

No one stopped them again before they got to Jensen's room. Jared paused, checking the number again before palming the panel next to the door. It slid open, revealing a young man standing in the doorway.

"Who are you? Major Ackles is resting. . ."

Jared shouldered him aside. "I'm his brother."

"Jared?"

Jared stopped moving. Jensen's voice sounded so small, nothing like how his confident big brother should sound. And then he caught sight of Jensen, wrapped up in blankets and pillows on the hospital bed, tubes trailing from an IV in his arm, with the monitors hovering just above his head. Jensen was nearly as white as his sheets, his face so gaunt his cheekbones were more than prominent. His eyes moved from side to side, as if he didn't even see Jared standing there.

Stars, no. Jared broke free of his temporary paralysis and went to his brother's side, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed. "It's me, Jen."

"Jared," Jensen said again, his voice hoarse. He struggled to reach out, his hands wrapped up in thick bandages.

Jared would need to get a look at those charts soon. He wrapped Jensen up his arms, careful of the bandages and tubes, hugging his brother as tightly as he dared. Jared ran his hand through Jensen's hair, holding him close. He could feel the wetness that soaked into his shirt from the tears running down Jensen's cheeks.

"I'm gonna get you out of here, bro. Nobody's gonna hurt you again, I promise."

He didn't know how, but Jared was going to keep that promise.

***  
Jensen had wanted to go to Mike's funeral, despite the spectacle they were making of it. By all rights it should have been held months ago, when that video of them had hit the news feed. Apparently scuts were very popular right now, since Jensen had escaped when no one else had.

He could barely keep his eyes open, not that it mattered. Though the sun felt hot on his face, Jensen would never see its light again. That's what they kept telling him, after another surgery that couldn't fix the mess Isaacs had made of his head. He shuddered, as the errant thought brought the image of the man's face to his mind's eye. Jensen would always see that damned grin, those callous eyes, the last image before his world went dark.

"You cold, Jen?" Jared whispered from behind. He pushed the hover chair, since Jensen couldn't operate the controls himself.

He was so fucking useless. His hands were clenched into claws on his lap and Jensen was sure his feet were no better. The only saving grace was that right now he couldn't feel either of them. That was far better than the pain that chased him whenever he tried to sleep.

Jared had prescribed the sleeping pill, and it granted him blessed oblivion, however it was also why he was groggy now. The minister's words seemed so far away, but Jensen didn't want to listen to them anyway. Mike was gone, and no placating words about an afterlife would change that.

"No." He bowed his head. Jared had told him there were media there and Jensen didn't want to be captured on vid. He didn't want to be the cripple on everyone's feed.

"Jensen?"

He snapped his head up, blinking instinctively like always. That was Sophia's voice. Had Jensen fallen asleep throughout the entire service? "Soph?"

"Yeah." Her hand touched his and Jensen pulled it away, close to his chest.

He had to breathe deeply to keep from losing control. "Please don't."

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice a harsh whisper. "Tom's here too. He's with Mike's family."

Panic rose in his throat. "I don't want to talk to them. I don't." He didn't want to tell them how their son died, how Mike had been tormented for months before his throat cut in front of all of the UP. And he didn't want to talk about how Mike had carved him up to save Jensen from even worse pain. "Jared, take me home? Wanna go home."

"Jensen, it's ok. We're going to go straight home, okay?" Jared's voice cut into everything. Jensen felt like he could breathe again.

"His heart rate is a little elevated," Jared said, probably talking to Sophia. "I'm sorry, but we're going to have to leave now. Give the Rosenbaums our condolences."

"Jensen, it's good to see you." Sophia's voice sounded so far away. "I'm glad, I'm glad you're safe, okay?"

He wrapped his arms around himself, waiting for Jared to push him away. Jensen wanted to get out of the sun. He wanted to stop thinking about Mike and how the blades felt as they cut into his skin. He wanted to stop smelling blood, stop seeing the red haze that the world had become when Mike died.

It never stopped. The dreams wouldn't go away and the drugged oblivion only threatened to take him deeper. Sometimes Jensen would stretch out on his bed and try to think about Jeff, about the hopes he had before he left for that one last mission.

And then he'd hear Jeff telling him goodbye. Even Jeff had given up on him. Why should Jensen keep fighting?

"You'll be all right, Jen," Jared said. The hover chair began to move, hopefully away from the graves at Arlington II. "I'll figure this out, okay?"

"Okay," Jensen said, because Jared needed him to. He had his doubts, but he also had Jared.

***

Jeff barely remembered when he used to think of sailing the stars as the ultimate freedom. He'd been so young then, pilot's certification fresh in hand, ready to take on the galaxy. Then Alfani had happened and he'd been sucked into the war so deep he thought nothing else existed except for that.

But he'd always seen the stars as the best symbol of the future. Whenever he wanted to think he'd take a turn at the bridge, or man a shuttle, anything to feel the exhilaration of steering a ship throughout that dark expanse.

Now the ship felt more like a prison, keeping him here in the outmost reaches of the galaxy when all he wanted was to be home, with solid earth beneath his feet. Jeff snorted. He knew better than to try to deny the truth. He wanted to be back on Earth because that's where Jensen was.

"Have you finished the personnel evaluations?"

Jeff turned away from the view window – not like the picture ever changed, the stars always stayed the same – to answer Dr. Cohan. "They've already been sent to your code."

She snorted. "In the time it took for me to walk over here?"

"Check again." Jeff folded his arms across his chest. "I think everyone is long overdue for some shore leave."

Cohan had gone to one of the terminals in the office and started to punch in her credentials. "Won't get that until we get back to Earth next month. Unless you want to ship everyone down to Harmony?"

Jeff smiled at the thought, imagining his staff having to cope with the strict Dom/sub roles in the alien city. Stars, half of them would need an education in proper behavior before they walked through the gates. If Jensen were here he'd. . .

But Jensen wasn't. Jensen might never be able to travel to Harmony again. Jeff just didn't know and his repeated calls to Jensen's comm went unanswered. "I think we can make it until then."

"Mmm. Do you include yourself in that, Commander?"

Stars save him from psychologists who wanted to know how he was feeling! "I assure you, doctor, I am more than capable of doing my duty."

She looked up from the terminal screen. "That's not what I meant. You just seem a little impatient to get back there."

Jeff knew losing his temper would gain him nothing. Ever since he'd let his anger out on that poor sub in Harmony, it seemed he couldn't stay angry. Maybe that had been Ian's point. Shouting at Cohan wouldn't get him to Earth faster and it would do Jensen any good.

"Doctor, I've been out here for four years now. Can you blame me?" He gave her his most charming smile.

Once he got back to Earth, all bets were off. Jeff was going to find Jensen and screw the Corps and anyone who got in his way.

end


End file.
